Listen for My Heart
by Ladymage Samiko
Summary: Eiluneth Pierce is Hogwart's newest professor. But Snape wonders: Is she just another witch, or something else entirely? SS/OFC
1. A Breath of Wind

Well, I must say this is one fic I never expected to do. But as it has been pestering me for the last few weeks. . . It needed to be shared. I hope you enjoy it. Please read & review; I appreciate anything from roasting flames to fatuous praise and anything in between. Um, the lyrics in the second paragraph are from the Australian song "Waltzing Matilda" which I have heard sung by the Irish Tenors. And, as I'm sure you know, Harry Potter et al belong to J.K. Rowling and her Corporate Court. Everything that doesn't come from there is mine. Have fun!

Ladymage Samiko ;)

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Listen for My Heart

Ladymage Samiko

Part 1 ~ A Breath of Wind

Severus Snape was walking down the corridor to his chambers when he heard something he never expected to hear and certainly didn't appreciate there. Frowning, he approached the door from which the sound was issuing and looked in.

"Waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda, you'll come a waltzing Matilda with me," came a lilting soprano from a round-cheeked girl who looked to be not much older than the students.

"What are you doing here?" Snape asked sharply.

"Oh!" the girl exclaimed as she shot straight up from where she had been kneeling on the floor, stowing clothes in a large trunk. Her face turned a brilliant red. "I'm terribly sorry, Professor," she spoke quickly, her thick accent quickly identifying her as Welsh. "It is Professor, is it not? I'm afraid I haven't had a chance to meet very many people yet. But I'm sorry if my singing disturbed you; I tend to get carried away and I forgot I left the door open."

Snape was confused and he appreciated that even less. "Who are you?" he growled.

"Oh, beg your pardon," she said and curtseyed. "I'm Eiluneth Pierce. Headmaster Dumbledore hired me as the new Potions teacher."

"What?!" Snape exclaimed. "_You_ are the new _Potions Master_?"

"Aye, I am," she replied turning back to continue putting her things away as she talked. "The headmaster said I was to replace Professor Snape." She turned back and saw that the pale man at her door had become even whiter. "You look as though you'd seen a ghost!" she exclaimed in alarm. "Come in an' sit down before you fall down!"

Shaken, he sunk into a chair near the door. "You. . . are the new. . . Potions Master. . . " he repeated. "I. . . I. . ."

"Sweet Jesus," she breathed, crossing the room. "You're Professor Snape, aren't you? You mean to say they didn't tell you? You didn't know?" Mutely, he shook his head. She sank to the floor beside him. "Oh, dear," she said. "I'll have to go to the headmaster and get this straightened out. I can't say I'm not grateful for the position, but I won't make my way by treading on anyone's toes. I'm not near good enough and if he's sacked you and put me in instead. . . Well, I'll just have to quit and that's all there is to it."

She looked up to find him staring at her in amazement. "What is it?" she asked.

"You would give up this position, one of the most coveted teaching posts in the wizard world, for me?" Snape asked incredulously.

"'Course," she replied quietly. "As I said, I'm not near the level of anyone here. I don't have the learning, though I have the teaching experience. You have the learning and the experience and'll do far better for the children than I can."

"Incredible," was all Snape had to say in reply.

"Ah, there you are, Severus." Dumbledore's voice said heartily. "And I see you've met Miss Pierce. How are you, my dear?"

"Headmaster, I'd like to know what's going on," she answered, rising from the floor. "Have you sacked Professor Snape? I told him I was the new Potions teacher and he had no idea that I was replacing him."

"Ah, well," replied Dumbledore, looking slightly abashed. "I was going to tell you, Severus, but I kept putting it off. . ."

"As it would seem my services are no longer necessary," Snape said stiffly, "I shall gather my belongings and leave as soon as possible."

"Now, don't you dare," Eiluneth put in quickly. "I told you I'll leave and leave I will. I won't take work away from anybody."

"And I will not stay where I am no longer wanted," he ground out.

Dumbledore quickly interceded. "Severus, Miss Pierce, please, you misunderstand. The reason I didn't tell you, Severus, is the same reason no one knows I hired Miss Pierce. I did not want the news to spread, as it often does, before the beginning of the school year. Severus, I have decided that I would like you to take over the Defense Against the Dark Arts professorship."

"Sir--" Snape breathed.

"And, as you couldn't possibly handle both Dark Arts and Potions, I asked Miss Pierce to join us. Her talents in the field are extraordinary--"

"Now, sir, don't you be using any of that blarney on me. I know my worth."

Dumbledore answered, his eyes twinkling, "Come, come, Miss Pierce, surely you know I don't use blarney on anyone, least of all someone who deserves praise. Now, I'd best be on my way; there is quite a bit to do still before the students arrive." With that, he swept out of the room, leaving a quiet girl and a _very_ off-balance Snape.

"Well!" she said, smiling. "At least that's taken care of. Congratulations on your new post, Professor. I'm sure you'll enjoy it."

"Will I?" Snape said distractedly, before standing up and leaving the room without another word. Eiluneth watched him leave, then turned back to her boxes. The clothes, unfortunately, would not unpack themselves.

It was time for the annual Sorting and all the ceremonies accompanying it before Severus Snape and Eiluneth Pierce ran into each other again. As Snape had finally regained his composure (if not his normal state of mind), he took the opportunity to quietly study his seat-mate.

Eiluneth Pierce was a small, round-figured girl with long, curling black hair and deep blue eyes. It was difficult to think of her as a woman rather than a student, though Minerva had told him Eiluneth was thirty years old. She looked at least ten years younger and acted like a tongue-tied teenager. Dressed as she was in a flowing, lavender-grey gown instead of wizards' robes, she ought to have stood out among the dark-clad professors. Instead, she seemed almost to blend in with the surroundings. She had a hesitant smile, but said nothing unless someone addressed her. Snape wondered how on Earth, with her seemingly shy, apologetic nature, she was going to handle her classes. He gave a mental shrug and returned to the new concept of himself as the DADA professor as the students poured into the hall.

Eiluneth watched the students find their places with a slight sense of dismay. There were far more of them than she was accustomed to and she knew the first years hadn't even come in yet. What had she let herself in for? For a brief moment, she fervently wished herself back at her old school near Holyhead. Never more than fifty students there, year in, year out, but then. . .

Eiluneth gave herself a small shake, reminding herself why she was here. She prove herself here and maybe show these wizards what she could do! 

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Dumbledore's voice as he made his beginning of the year speech. She heard him introduce her as the new Potions Master (_hardly a master_, she thought) and stood up, raising her hand in greeting. The student response was something along the lines of a muted roar, though she couldn't make out individual commentary. She resumed her seat and heard the headmaster announce Professor Snape as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. The reaction was utter silence. If there had been in crickets in the hall, you would have heard the smallest one chirping. Students gaped at Dumbledore and Snape in turn. The headmaster's eyes twinkled merrily while Professor Snape looked extremely smug. With a smile, Dumbledore invited everyone to dig in, an invitation that was only slowly taken up. Eiluneth applied herself to her own food and to a conversation with Professor Trelawney about Chinese horoscopes which lasted throughout dinner.

Eiluneth sat nervously in the front of the classroom, waiting for her second class to arrive. The first had gone alright; it was--appropriately--a class of first-years, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. She had introduced them to the basic ingredients and done a few demonstrations on how even slight differences in measurements could produce drastic changes. She didn't think they'd forget after seeing a spoonful more of powdered Eyeling Moss change a Laughter Potion into a liquid that ate though a foot-thick granite block in two seconds flat. 

But now was the real test: trying to find a place with students who had had the same Potions Master for years. Though she had been pleasantly surprised (and not a little relieved) when Professor Snape had showed up at her door that morning with a handful of parchment. "These are lists of what I've _attempted_ to teach the students, Miss Pierce. I would have included syllabi, but I have no doubt you have your own," he eyed her floor-length violet dress, "interesting methods," he finished pointedly.

"'Course, Professor," she had answered. "Thank you; I'll be needing them."

"Of course," he replied smoothly, then turned to leave.

"Oh, and my best to you at your new post," she called after him, though he didn't seem to hear. _Ah, well_, she shrugged. _Wizards have been treating me like that for years and they're certainly entitled to it. The talents they have. . ._

The students filed in, chattering amongst themselves. She checked her schedule: fifth-years, Slytherin and Gryffindor. Not an easy bunch to tackle. The Slytherins especially would be searching for anything they could to discredit her, since she had replaced their house head. And they were old enough to know something about what they were talking about.

"Well, _that_ was certainly horrifying," she heard one boy comment. "Wonder why Dumbledore finally _did_ decide to put old Snape in the DADA job."

"Probably no one else dumb enough to take it anymore," snickered one of his companions.

"Give over, Ron," the girl with them said. "You know Dumbledore always has a good reason for doing the things he does."

Ah, that would be Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger. She knew something about each of them. All survivors, in their own ways, and she appreciated survivors.

Once the students were seated, she began. "Good morning, everyone. I trust it's been good so far. Today I'll be giving a short talk on--"

She was interrupted by one of the boys, a washed-out looking lad with nothing to recommend him except for the studied elegance of his sneer. "And why should we listen to you?" he called out. "You're not even a professor, _Miss_ Pierce. Are you even a witch?"

Eiluneth moved around to the front of her desk. "And you are, young man?"

He smirked. "Neville Longbottom," he answered calmly.

"Ah. I see, _Mr. Malfoy_," she said slowly, relishing the start of surprise he gave and noting the same reaction in the rest of the class. "You believe that as I'm not a full Professorial wizard, my classes aren't worth anything. Well, I must admit, Mr. Malfoy, that Professor Dumbledore doesn't share your opinion and as he, not you, hired me, I'm afraid his opinion is much more important than yours. If you don't respect his judgment, I suggest you find another school.

"Oh, and I'll forgive you this time, but I'll have it known that any disruptions in my class are rewarded with extra homework and _all_ homework must be completed by the end of the term. If it is not, you will fail the course and be forced to repeat it next term. And trust me, I have no qualms about failing any or all of you."

"You--You can't do that!" Malfoy spluttered. "You'll be sacked if all your students fail!"

"And why would that worry me?" Eiluneth asked sweetly. "If I'm asked to leave, I'll just return home. I don't have to teach to earn a living. And now I think you've delayed this class long enough, Mr. Malfoy. Anything more from you today and I'll start piling on the work. And don't think it will be something simple, either."

She turned to the rest of the class. "Don't expect me to go easy on any of you just because I'm not Professor Snape. I have a list of what he claims you're capable of and it's pretty impressive. I'll expect you all to maintain the same level of excellence, perhaps exceed it in the next year. And now, today we're starting in on Hasty Healing Potions. These are emergency potions. You will have to memorize them, as you'll be using them in circumstances when you have no books, no measuring tools, no help, and quite possibly no wands and no time. This first one is for blood loss. . ."

An hour later, the students were working diligently (if not silently) on producing the first potion within a five minute time limit. Two had passed when a small explosion was heard in the back of the room. Eiluneth looked to see a flustered Neville Longbottom attempt to mop up the mess on the table, his hair smoking and his face red. Seeing it was Neville, most of the class shrugged and turned back to their cauldrons.

"I'm sorry, Miss Pierce, I don't know how it happened. I'll clean it up, I promise, and I'll do better next time, and--" he babbled.

Eiluneth held up her hand, smiling. "Peace, Mr. Longbottom, peace! Everyone's entitled to an accident now and again."

"Are they entitled to them _all the time_?" muttered a voice behind her. Neville's face became an even brighter shade of red.

"I try," he said in a low voice. "I always try and it never comes right. I just get so frustrated!"

"Now, hold on there, lad!" Eiluneth said. "'Tis only natural to have trouble with things you haven't learned yet. There's not enough time to finish this potion, I'm afraid, but get this tidied up and I'll work with you on the next one. Between the two of us, we'll get this right." She smiled and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. He nodded. "Yes, ma'am," he said.

"All right, loves, you have one minute!" she sang out to the rest of the class.

By the time she had finished testing everyone's potions, Neville had managed to get his workspace relatively clean. Eiluneth wrote up the next set of instructions and returned to the back of the class to work with the boy. She walked him slowly through each step and they still finished well within time. The last half-hour of the class passed in the same way, and though there were a few snide remarks from the Slytherins, Neville wore a relieved smile on his face.

It disappeared after Eiluneth had made her final remarks and added, "Mr. Longbottom, I'd like to speak to you for a moment." His head drooped, though he got a few encouraging remarks from fellow Gryffindors as they left the classroom. As Ron Weasley left, Eiluneth heard him say, "You know, I think that's the first Potions class where Neville hasn't gotten yelled at."

Neville stood before her desk, looking at the tips of his shoes. "Yes, Miss Pierce?"

"You're having problems in all your classes, Neville?" she asked gently.

He nodded dismally. "I can't seem to get anything right. I think I know what to do and then they ask me to do it and--"

"And it all disappears and you have no idea what's going on," she finished.

"Uh-huh."

"Well, I'll tell you a secret, lad," Eiluneth said. "I used to have the same problem when I was a girl. I was convinced I couldn't do anything more complicated than stand on my feet and not fall over. Sometimes I wasn't even sure of that."

He looked at her in awe. "How did you get over it?" he asked hopefully.

"One of my teachers figured it out and taught me what to do," she told him. "If you're really determined, I'll do the same for you. I'll teach you how to focus and concentrate, which should help you improve."

"Will you? Please? I'll do anything," he pleaded.

"It's going to take a lot of work on your part, Neville," she warned him. "I won't start unless you promise to work at it through to the end."

"I promise!"

"Then, I'd like you to come see me after dinner. We'll find someplace to work in for about half an hour or so. Do you think you can do that?"

Neville nodded eagerly. "Sure!"

"All right, then," she smiled. "Of you go. You're next class is starting."

The boy smiled brilliantly and dashed through the doorway, brushing Snape as he passed. "Sorry, Professor!" he called without stopping.

Severus paid him no mind. "You're going to try to teach Longbottom something?" he commented drily. "I applaud your enthusiasm, if not your sense."

Eiluneth smiled brilliantly at him as she left the classroom. "Thank you, Professor!"

Snape blinked as the little figure skipped down the hallway. Unlike him, the woman had sounded sincere rather than sarcastic.

By dinner time, Eiluneth felt tired, but happy. The entire day had passed well, and the compliment from Professor Snape had been an added filip. True, it was a backhanded sort of compliment, but she was used to that.

After dinner, she greeted the Gryffindors briefly before leaving with Neville. Deciding that her own sitting room was the place where they were least likely to be disturbed, she took him there. Her office had been another option, but it still needed substantial improvement before it would be livable.

"Please, Neville, make yourself at home," she said cheerily. "Sit anywhere that you feel comfortable in."

"Thank you, miss," Neville replied, choosing a plump, round footstool. Eiluneth pulled another one next to him and settled herself.

"Now, Neville, I want you to close your eyes and try to relax," she said in a quiet voice. "That's the first step. Just relax." It was several minutes before she could feel the boy actually do so. "Now breathe deep. In. Out. In. Out.

"Neville?" She laid her hand lightly on his shoulder.

"Hmm?" The boy looked up at her with sleepy eyes.

"It's time. You need to go to your studies and I need to do some work."

"It's been a half-hour already?" Neville exclaimed, surprised.

"Aye," Eiluneth smiled, "it has. You did very well this evening, Neville. I think you'll do just fine. Same time tomorrow?"

"O-of course," Neville stammered. "Do I need to do anything else, Miss Pierce?"

"No, not really. Practice what we did if you like. We'll be building up slowly, so don't try to push anything. And it may seem a little idiotic at first, but it works."

"Yes, ma'am," Neville replied, heading towards the door. "Thank you!"

"Good night, Neville," she called as he ran down the corridor.

As Eiluneth closed the door, she sighed and smiled. Her first day was over.


	2. When Where Who Which

Thanks to Beccs for my first review on this story! Good reviews make me write, you know, and bad ones let me know what to fix. (Hint hint ;-P ) Also, see if you can catch the Alan Rickman related reference in this chapter. For those who do recognize it, I apologize. I just had to do it. Let's see. . . The origin of our title today is a song from Revolutionary Girl Utena. Listen to it if you get a chance. You know the disclaimers, loves. Now read on. Have fun!

Ladymage Samiko ;)

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Listen for My Heart

Part 2 ~ When Where Who Which

Severus Snape was puzzled. It was not something he was accustomed to, but at the moment it seemed to be unavoidable. It was now November, chill and dark, and everything was going well. Too well, according to Severus Snape. For one thing, he had expected at least some action from Lord Voldemort's followers, yet nothing had happened. It was a welcome change, but made him all the more nervous as to just when Voldemort would strike. Not that one could tell from looking at him. If anything, he seemed a little more surly than usual, but that was all.

One other thing bothered him constantly: Eiluneth Pierce. She was an odd one, certainly, and in a community of odd folk, that was saying quite a bit. She seemed to be quite at home with magic, though he never saw her practice any spells herself, but she never appeared to be quite at ease with wizards, often fading away into the background when she had to appear in a social setting. She did, however, seem to be having a good effect on that miserable Longbottom. He was doing much better in all of his classes. It was a miracle that Snape, for one, was extremely grateful for. She was extraordinarily good with potions, able to concoct anything anyone could throw at her. Eiluneth was also extremely good with magical creatures. Actually, she was too good.

It had been late October when Hagrid, true to form, had imported a creature he was having trouble with. And, of course, anyone else in his right mind would never even try tackling a hydra. But that was Hagrid for you. Hagrid was also one of the few people at the school Eiluneth seemed to feel comfortable with. The odd animals he usually had around never seemed to faze her. So Snape supposed it was only natural that Hagrid would ask the only other person with a knack for animals for help. Still (perhaps he was just feeling especially paranoid that day), he decided to shadow the pair as they made their way to the enclosure.

"That's 'er," rumbled Hagrid, his voice proud as he displayed the twenty-foot, nine headed snake. "Ain't she a beauty?" With the hydra's ruby eyes and sapphire-blue scales, his pride was understandable, if somewhat. . . misplaced.

"She's gorgeous," Eiluneth breathed, sounding sincere enough to startle Professor Snape. But that wasn't as startling as what happened next. Her hands outstretched, Eiluneth walked towards the hydra, seemingly oblivious of the nine sets of gleaming fangs. Snape smothered a yell. Was the woman mad? Or merely suicidal? Then he heard her voice speaking softly; he was just able to make out words. If he had been a nervous man, he would have fainted.

_The woman was speaking Parseltongue._

Snape didn't know the language himself, but he knew the sound of it and he knew the sound of a conversation when he heard it. Eiluneth and the nine heads conversed for several minutes, the words punctuated by the girl's giggles. When she finally left the enclosure, she was smiling brilliantly and stopped to give the hydra a final pat.

"She's incredible, Hagrid!" she said. "Did you know she's over five hundred years old? Of course, each head is a different personality and they like to be addressed individually; I'll write all the names down for you. But they will all answer to their family name, Silvus, too."

"Thank ye, Miss Eiluneth," rumbled Hagrid. "I don' know what I would've done without ye."

"Bah! You have a fair hand with them yourself, Hagrid. They like you very much already. Now, just remember, when you feed them. . ."

The voices trailed off as the two entered Hagrid's cottage, leaving a very perturbed Snape in their wake.

Severus spent several days trying to reconcile all of the facts he had learned about the young woman. In the end, he nearly threw up his hands in despair. Nothing fit, curse it! Everything he knew contradicted everything else. With the amount of magic she used, he would suspect that she was a Muggle or a squib, at best. But she could mix Potions with the best of them, knew her Herbology inside-out, and dealt with magical creatures without a qualm. Her demeanor suggested she was nothing more than a quiet, shy country girl. But Snape remembered a saying from somewhere: "It's always the quiet ones. . ." and she spoke Parseltongue, which indicated more than a passing familiarity with the Dark Arts. Besides, if she was a witch, why hadn't he had the teaching of her at Hogwarts? It was the only wizarding school in Great Britain, after all. She hadn't given any indication of having been to Beauxbatons or Durmstrang or even that ridiculous little American school he could never remember the name of. But if she wasn't a witch, how did she know everything that she did? It was enough to make a man dizzy.

In the end, he decided one of the few sensible things he could do was try to talk to the girl and see if he could winkle a few things out of her.

It was late the next day when he decided to go, late enough so that her session with Longbottom would be over. When he reached the door to her rooms, he paused. How did he want to begin? "Are you a Dark wizard?" was a trifle too blunt. "How are your classes going?" would sound ridiculous coming from him. He was not known for his prowess at small talk. Really, this entire charade was ridiculous! One would think that he, who had survived only because of his ability to think quickly, would have at least thought this out a little more! He stood outside Eiluneth's door, quietly cursing himself and the entire situation.

A voice broke through his irritation. "Professor Snape? If you're quite finished lurking outside my door, you're perfectly welcome to enter. It's not locked."

Snape was so surprised, it was a few seconds before he opened the door. "How did you know I was there?" he demanded. "That door is at least four inches thick!" And he had made almost no noise and was sure that there had been no listening charms.

Eiluneth, who was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor, her eyes closed, smiled serenely. "I heard you nonetheless, Professor. I was "Listening," a technique I learned when I was a lass. Not many people practice it, but I find it. . .useful."

"Useful," Snape repeated, disbelief and sarcasm clear in his voice. "Sitting on the floor, listening to an empty room, is useful."

"You'd be surprised, Professor," she replied, still serene, "and amazed at the things you'd know if you'd just Listen."

"Quite," he drawled. "Perhaps I would hear a mouse on the far side of the room?"

"What I hear would tell me you're not as nasty as you'd like me to think you are," Eiluneth answered.

"What would give you that impression, O Wise Sage?" Snape sneered.

"You wouldn't be hiding a ferenicca under that mess of hair otherwise," she told him calmly, looking him in the eye.

"What?" Snape's hand flew to the back of his neck as he stepped back, off-balance. His pet ferenicca slid from under his fingers to peer out from the curtain of hair.

She was a small thing, no more than eight inches or so. Ferenicca rather resembled a cross between a snake and a weasel, with long, slim bodies covered with fur, triangular heads, and four tiny legs. Silca was black, blending in with his robes and hair. She tended to be something of a chameleon.

Eiluneth said something and it was a few seconds before Severus realized she had spoken in the bastardized form of Parseltongue that Silca knew and, unlike Parseltongue, was relatively simple to learn.

The ferenicca flowed down his body to greet the stranger. "I am Silca," she said imperiously.

"Silca, I am Eiluneth," the woman replied. "You are well?" The ferenicca replied in the affirmative and inquired after her. The conversation continued quietly, punctuated a few giggles from Eiluneth and a few hisses from Silca that were her form of laughter.

Severus drifted to a chair in the corner of the room, feeling oddly bereft. It was strange not to have Silca near him. She had been his constant companion for a long time. His only companion.

He looked up to find Eiluneth standing in front of him. Silca, now rose-coloured, unwound herself from the woman's wrist to flow back up to his neck, butting her head against his chin a few times to remind him that she was there and that was where she wanted to be.

"She's lovely," Eiluneth commented softly. "She loves you very much."

Which was not a topic Snape cared to discuss. "That was a form of Parseltongue," he said abruptly. "How do you know it? No one does."

"You do," she stated. "Silca said you talk to her."

"But she's _my_ familiar," he replied. "_You_ have no reason to know it."

She turned to look at a blank space on the wall. "I can speak to all animals," she said quietly. "I was born with the gift."

"I have never heard of that happening," Snape said baldly.

"I know," she told him, still looking into the distance. "No one has."

Silca softly bit his ear--a sign for him to leave well enough alone. "How did you 'hear' Silca?" he asked instead. "No one else has ever known she was there before."

"It's another talent I have," Eiluneth said in an offhand manner. "Mostly it's meditation, but true Listening takes time to learn. Some have a gift for it, like myself, others have to work much harder. And it's not often taught. So, few people practice."

"It sounds intriguing," Snape said smoothly. "Would you, perhaps, show me how it is done?"

There was a flash of something--fear, perhaps?--in her eyes before she considered him thoughtfully. "I suppose," she said slowly. "You can't do it yourself, but you can Listen through me, if you're willing."

"By all means," he replied. "What would you have me do?"

"Hmm. . . It would be best, I think, if you were to sit here on the floor. As comfortably as you can."

Snape raised an elegant, expressive eyebrow as he complied, taking a seat cross-legged in the middle of the floor. Eiluneth looked at him, puzzled, then moved to drag on of the large, stuffed footstools behind him. "Why do men have to be so bloody tall?" she muttered.

"I apologize sincerely for not having been born a midget," Snape replied caustically.

"If all men were midgets," she told him smartly, "the human species would never reproduce. Now," she continued before he had a chance to reply, "I want to to sit still and breathe slowly." She sat on the footstool, as close to him as she could, and placed her fingers at his temples. Snape started violently. Hiding her dismay--she hadn't done that much!--Eiluneth said briskly, "Do you think I'm going to murder you or something? Now keep still, Professor."

"It _has _been known to happen," Snape remarked drily, before settling back down. Truth be told, it was the first time anyone had touched him willingly and without disgust in a very long time.

"Now, breathe in. Out. In. Out." It was the same beginning she had used with Neville; it always began the same way. Whether one was simply calming oneself or using the higher techniques. "Listen," she instructed softly. "Listen for the sound of your breathing. The sound of your heart."

"According to most people," Snape murmured, "I don't have one."

"You're delaying," she informed him quietly. "Of course you have a heart. You should let it out to play more often." Startled once again, Severus nearly broke the tranquility, but Eiluneth brought him sharply back. "Now concentrate," she said firmly. When she felt him drop into the pattern she was so familiar with, she continued. This was the difficult part.

"Alright. Now I want you to listen for the sound of my heart. Concentrate on that sound." This was something she had practiced only once before, with a friend she knew well. Now, Eiluneth had not only to direct Professor Snape's journey, but control her own trance.

"I can hear it," he whispered, every word sounding to him like a shout.

"Good," she replied quietly. "I'm beginning now and I'll take you with me. Just concentrate on that sound."

The dark man listened, hearing Silca's faint rustles, refocussing his attention on Eiluneth. He felt the light pressure of her fingers, followed it to the sound of her. He heard her breathing quiet, her heartbeat become impossibly slow, barely moving blood through her system. His concentration, the strain to hear that sound, became an acute awareness of her. Quietly, almost imperceptably, he slipped into her conciousness.

_Good_, he felt her say, felt her calm elation at their success. _Now listen through me, through my conscious._

His world suddenly broadened, encompassing an amazing territory that he 'saw' not with his eyes, but with his ears. He heard the sounds of ants as they trooped across the window sill. The stealthy tread of Mrs. Norris several cooridors down. A student frantically flipping through a book in the Library in the opposite wing of the castle. Seamus, he knew. Somehow, Eiluneth was able to translate each and every faint sound to create an 'image' of who it was. Their awareness covered the entire castle; he heard the students, the professors, the very walls themselves.

_I do not hear the Headmaster, _he noted.

_He is the Headmaster,_ she replied simply. _I respect his privacy._ _I think,_ she added, _it is time we returned._ _It is. . .difficult. . . to carry you with me._

And with that, Severus found that he waas slowly trickling back into himself; drop by drop, his consciousness became once more wholly his own. When he had returned, he felt Eiluneth's fingers fall. He turned to face her. She looked calm, but slightly tired.

"That was incredible," he breathed. For once, he felt at peace with the world. "You are a truly talented witch, Miss Pierce. You have great gifts."

"Do I?" she questioned vaguely. "I suppose I do. But I wonder, sometimes, if I would not give them all up for the kind of power you have."

He was brought back to himself with a vengeance. "You do not want what I have, Miss Pierce," he told her sharply. "It has only brought me misery."

"Has it now?" she asked him. "Only misery? Has your gift never brought you a moment's joy?"

He began to deny it, and stopped. "What kind of witch are you?" he demanded.

She looked up at him, her normally bright eyes sad and exhausted. "I'm just a woman, Professor Snape," she replied. "Just a woman."

With that, she made her way slowly and haltingly to her bedroom, closing the door silently behind her.


	3. Stargazer's Sympathy

I'm too tired to say much today, so I'll simply acknowledge that though I hope I've been original, Tamora Pierce's Immortals quartet has been a big influence in this fic. I hadn't realized it before. . . Anywho, for other disclaimers, see part 1. Have fun!

Ladymage Samiko ;)

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Listen for My Heart

Part 3 ~ Stargazer's Sympathy

Gratefully, Eiluneth collapsed onto her bed, sinking into the warmth and comfort it offered, the closest she had to the love and support of a true friend here. She wondered if she had done the right thing in sharing her talent with the dark professor. But then, she shouldn't have been so stupid in the first place as to reveal it. Thoughtless, reckless! She knew full well what could happen if her true nature was uncovered and made public. With a sound that was between a sob and a sigh, she rolled over, clutching her pillow.

She couldn't say it was a failure. Her classes were going well; the students generally seemed to like her. The teachers. . . Well, she didn't feel comfortable with them, couldn't develop a friendship with people she had to be wary of all the time. It was tiring, to juggle all the components in her life and to keep it to herself. But she hadn't done anything extraordinary, anything that would prove to her father. . . but no, that was silly. She should have overcome that childish desire years ago. But still, she wanted to prove to him she could be at least as good as Tom. With a small smile, she thought about her brother, now pursuing higher studies on the European continent. How proud she had been when he graduated! To see her parents' faces glowing when they returned home. To know that she had helped see him through school, been a part of his accomplishment.

That was it! Eiluneth sat up suddenly, surprised she hadn't thought of him before. Several years ago, she had visited her brother while he was at Hogwarts, paying for the trip fom her own savings. While she visited, she had met a centaur in the Forbidden Forest. At last! she thought. Someone I can confide in! Indeed, it was difficult not to confide in a centaur; they did know nearly everything that happened. But Darius had proved extraordinarily friendly and sympathetic, once they had established the boundaries of the conversation.

Eiluneth hurried, an unexpected rush of energy fuelling her motions as she grabbed a cloak and hurried down the corridor. She was so excited, she failed to notice the lean, pale-faced figure emerge from the shadows and follow her.

She reached the edges of the forest and gave a long, low cry, then waited. A few minutes later, a centaur appeared, magnificent in his size, impressive in looks, his long brown hair tied back to accentuate a narrow, strong-boned face. He smiled. "Eiluneth!" he spoke in a warm baritone. "It is marvelous to see you again. Welcome, child, welcome."

With a stifled sob that turned quickly into tears, Eiluneth flung herself into arms that held her close and comforted her as she let out all of the exhaustion and confusion that seemed to have been with her since she was born.

It was some time before Eiluneth was able to speak coherently. However, Darius was very patient and very kind. "I'm sorry, Darius," she mumbled. "I didn't mean to break down like that."

"Nonsense," Darius replied, a smile in his voice. "I think that is exactly what you needed to do. You've taken a great deal on your shoulders, child."

"How much do you know?" she asked quietly.

"Quite a bit," he told her. "I follow your stars quite closely, you know."

"No," she said in wonder. "I didn't think--"

"You are a very important person to me," Darius informed her. "You are one of the few truly good people I know. It is a rare quality, El, and you should prize yourself for it."

"I'm afraid your opinion isn't a very popular one," Eiluneth replied ruefully.

"And you should know better than that," Darius rebuked her softly. "But I cannot change you, or change the future. I can only support you in my own way."

"I know," Eiluneth said. "I'm grateful."

"Now. Tell Uncle Darius all about it while he looks suitably sympathetic." Eiluneth giggled, then sobered, pouring out everything that had happened in the seven years since she had last seen him. When she had visited her brother, Tom, then fifteen and a student at Hogwarts. She was twenty-three at the time, already teaching at a local school outside Holyhead. She was proud of her work, proud that she could help put her brother, the shining star of their family, through school. Eiluneth had stayed only a few days, spending what time she could with Tom, but generally explored the area and stayed out of the way. She had spent a lot of time dreaming, then.

"Well, you know Tom graduated a few years back; he's on the Continent now, doing advanced training in Defense. Mum and Da are very proud of him. They glowed when he came home, a fully-trained wizard."

"I rather thought you would accompany them to his graduation," Darius remarked neutrally.

"I would have," Eiluneth admitted, "but I couldn't get away from my work and there wasn't enough money for the three of us to mame the journey. Oh, I know father can travel here easily, but his methods always make Mother and myself ill. No, seeing him when he came home was enough."

Darius looked thoughtful. "How is your father?" he asked.

"As always," Eiluneth told him, smiling. "A short-tempered, crabby old buzzard he is. His work keeps him busy, but he always finds time to visit me on the weekend and I get an owl once a week sending his love. I talk to Mother nearly every day. She tells me everything that's going on."

"Your father must be surprised to know you are here," the centaur commented.

"Yes," the woman said haltingly. "He never believed in our gifts, you know. We've tried, but he won't. He can't believe in our magic. Tom's a wizard, like him. That's what he believes in. What Mum and I use isn't real magic. But that's the opinion of the entire wizarding world." She sighed. "I'd hoped coming here could maybe-- Well, no, it wouldn't. Anything I do has to remain secret."

"Child, all you can do is try," Darius reminded her. "You are far more talented than any I have known. Remember that it lies within yourself. You have the gift. I--" He halted suddenly, aware of what he was forbidden to say. "Well, you know what I think of you, Eiluneth Pierce," he finished. "May the Powers guide you and, remember, I am always here for you, should you need a friend."

"Thank you, Darius." Eiluneth embraced the centaur briefly, then stood. "I ought to go. I have a lot to do tomorrow."

"Fare thee well, Eiluneth," he replied. "Until we meet again."

Eiluneth slipped across the grounds and to her chambers, closing the door with a sigh. She threw back the hood of her cloak and instinctually reached into the small drawer of a stand to the right of the door. Taking out a box of matches, she struck one and lit the candle set on the stand. Picking it up, she turned to light other candles in her room. When she noticed the apparently disembodied face and hands, she nearly screamed.

"Good evening to you once again, Miss Pierce," drawled that same dark voice. "Perhaps you will answer my question now.

"What are you?"


	4. What Are You?

You know, this is a lot shorter than I thought it was. *shrug* Oh, well, the next part is a lot longer. I mean it. Really. ^_^ Hmm, I've discovered our theme CD for this story is the Batman Forever soundtrack. Movie aside, most of the music seems to fit my mood. Do I understand this? Not really. Ah, yes, all the standard characters belong to Lady Rowling and her Corporate Court and Tamora Pierce can be found throughout my ideas. Read her books. They're very good.

Big thanks to my reviewers so far: Beccs, Unicorn Lady (you sure you want to keep egging me on, er, encouraging me? :-P ), Diana (points to Cat for spreading my insanity!), furguspork, and Lady Elena. Domo arigatou gozaimasu!!!

Have fun!

Ladymage ; )

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Listen for My Heart

Part 4 ~ What Are You?

Any energy Eiluneth had drained out of her, leaving her feeling empty. Slowly, she moved to light the other candles and lamps in her room, only to be stopped by Snape's impatient wave, which lit them all. With a sigh, she sank into the window seat and stared out across the landscape. "Does it matter?" she asked listlessly. "You've already condemned me; what difference does it make?"

"Perhaps I like to know what I'm condemning people for," Snape remarked, his voice deceptively mild.

"Ah, well," Eiluneth murmured, "might as well, I suppose. Not likely I'll have another chance, anyways. Very well, Professor Snape. I am a hedgewitch."

"Impossible," he said flatly. "They don't exist."

"That's what my father says," Eiluneth agreed. "But there you are. I am what I am. I wish I could live up to your expectations of me, but I can't. So do as you like; there's aught I haven't heard or experienced before."

"If you are a hedgewitch," Snape pursued, "why didn't you declare yourself? The secrecy doesn't speak well for you."

"I think the question is: why would I?," she replied, turning to look up at him. "You know your history as well as I do, Professor Snape. Wizards treat the witch trials as one big joke. But who do you think took the real brunt of the viciousness? Who lived in the villages and on the outskirts because they had no place else to go? The wizarding community denied our magic and refused our plea for sanctuary. Muggles persecute us, wizards deny us--or use us if it suits their purpose. So why should I admit to something that will only bring me ridicule, hatred, and grief? Do you know what that's like, Professor Snape? To be hated, feared? Judged before you have a chance to say a single word?"

Snape stopped dead. "Yes," he said distantly, his hand absentmindedly rubbing his forearm, "Yes, I do."

"Then you understand," Eiluneth said gently. "You understand why I said nothing. Why I cannot trust wizards with what I am."

"You trust your father, your brother," Snape remarked.

"That was a private conversation," she commented neutrally. "'Twas my mother first trusted my father. I can hardly do less. And surely you remember Tom. There are no half-measures there."

True, he did remember Thomas Pierce. A sweet, sensitive, undeniably bright lad with the signature Hufflepuff loyalty in spades. Yes, Tom would be fiercely loyal to his sister, guarding her in the fashion peculiar to little brothers and keeping her secrets well. Of course, he would insist on knowing those secrets, as well.

"Why?" he demanded suddenly, startling her.

"What?" 

"Why are you here?" he ground out. "From what you have told me, wizards are the last people you would seek out. Why are you living with us?"

"I-- I really shouldn't say. . ." she wavered. "But I will. I trust you."

It was Severus's turn to be surprised. "What?"

"You could have told people about your suspicions at any time, Professor. But you chose to confront me and give me a chance to defend myself. I'm grateful; it's more than anyone else would have given me." Disconcerted, Severus said nothing and Eiluneth continued. "I'm here because the Headmaster has faith in me. He discovered my talent and asked me to use it to find Lord Voldemort." She seemed oblivious to Severus's slight stiffening at the name. "I can Listen much farther than we went tonight, though I feel rather than hear as I go farther out. But I've failed." She once more turned toward the moonlit fields. "Over two months and nothing. Nothing I was able to do. I was trying again before you. . . came. . . this evening. I just don't know what I'm looking for! I thought the Earth could show me such a concentration of evil, but I have nothing! Is it that he is beyond my range, or do I continue to pass him by like some buffle-brained fool?" Eiluneth turned to see the consternation on Snape's face. She flushed a deep red. "I beg your pardon, Professor. I let myself get carried away."

"Yes. Well," Snape prevaricated. "I believe that will be all for the moment. I will, however, be taking this matter up with the Headmaster."

"Of course," she replied softly, looking just that much more exhausted.

"Good night, Miss Pierce," he said abruptly and left the room. Was it his imagination, or did he hear a soft "Good night" in reply?


	5. Like a Child

I guess I don't really know what to say this time. The title today is a hymn that I know, very simple and pretty. Well, I hope you enjoy.

Ladymage Samiko ; )

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Listen For My Heart

Part 5 ~ Like a Child. . .

That morning, Severus dressed and made his way to the staff room. He had debated seeing Dumbledore immediately, but had decided against it. The matter wasn't that urgent and two o'clock in the morning seemed an unreasonable to discuss suspicions that didn't really exist, anyway. He had seen her talents, so that part of her story was undeniably true. He wondered absently what other powers a hedgewitch possessed. They were believed to be frauds, after all. . . And, well, Eiluneth didn't really seem like the Death Eater type. She was just too. . . too. . . 'Nice' came to mind, though that wasn't it. True, but not what he meant. Not quite cowed. . . Belittled, he supposed. Always believing herself inferior and pathetically grateful for any praise that came her way. Not surprising, he supposed, after having spent thirty years being compared to a standard she could never achieve. And this, of course, would have produced insatiable ambition in a Slytherin, in a Death Eater. In a boy called Severus Snape.

He entered the room, still musing, and glanced around for Eiluneth. She was usually one of the first awake, sitting quietly in a corner, but nonetheless radiating a disgustingly irritating cheerfullness that he felt was singularly inappropriate for the early hour. However, she was not in this morning.

"Where has our bothersome little ray of sunshine gone to this morning?" he asked, managing to sound like his ordinary abrasive self. "This is the first time in months I haven't winced as I came in the door."

"Oh," Professor McGonagall said. "She won't be coming in today. She sent a note down saying she was feeling ill and not to disturb her. She said it was a normal thing for her and not to bother Madame Pomfrey about it. All she needed was a bit of rest."

"Really?" drawled Snape, hiding his alarm. "She must not be very ill, then. Perhaps an unscheduled holiday?" he insinuated nastily.

"I wouldn't know," McGonagall replied stiffly. "I have not yet seen her this morning and have no intention of intruding on that girl's privacy. She does more than her fair share here, Severus, as well you know. If she needs a day off, then I have no objection to letting her have one."

"Hmph," Snape snorted, as he stalked out of the room. "You've gone soft on the girl, Minerva. But I assure you that I have not."

With that, he swept out of the room, making his way rapidly to Eiluneth's rooms. 

_Fool, fool! Twenty times over a fool!_ He continued to berate himself as he swept down the corridors, fighting to maintain a reasonable pace. When he found himself finally at her door, he flung it open, then stopped to look around carefully. No spells, ordinary or otherwise. The candle still stood on the side table, nothing was changed from what he remembered from the night before. Though, he noticed, studying the objects, there was next to nothing of her personal goods in the front room. His lips thinning, he stalked across the room to the small door opposite and pushed open that one as well with more force than grace. And stood, gaping.

Eiluneth was indeed there, in her bed, looking much smaller and almost corpse-like as she lay among the pillows. Her face was snow-white, save for the large, dark bruises that surrounded her eyes, which opened slowly at the disturbance at her door. They dominated her features, looking much too big for the small face they were set in.

"Professor Snape," she greeted him, her voice whisper-quiet and hoarse.

"I-- I--" For once, he was entirely speechless. Then he gave himself a mental shake. "You should be in the infirmary," he nearly ordered her.

She smiled slightly. "No point," she whisper-spoke.

"No point?" he repeated incredulously. "You look like death warmed over and you say there's no point?"

"Won't. . . help," she replied, forcing herself to answer.

"Won't help?" A light dawned in his mind. "Are you dying?" he demanded bluntly.

She spoke haltingly, catching her breath and her strength between each word. "No. . . Sorry. . . Hedgewitches. . . immune. . . potions. . . medicines. . . Just. . . need. . . rest." With that, she slipped into unconsciousness.

Severus simply stared at the girl. It was very irritating when people behaved in no predictable manner whatsoever.

"Eiluneth?" called a voice. "Eiluneth?" A few moments later, Dumbledore entered the room. "Ah, Severus," he said. "I must say, I did not expect you to be here. How is our Miss Pierce?"

"As you see, sir," Snape replied, gesturing towards the bed.

"Hmm. . ." The old wizard went to the girl and laid a hand on her forehead. "She's sleeping naturally," he said in a conversational tone. "That's good. But for her to be in this condition. . . I'm afraid our little one here has been overworking herself. What have you been doing, child? Ah, well." He turned to the man standing quietly behind him. "You know why she's here, Severus?"

"She said," he replied, slightly stressing the latter word, "that she is a hedgewitch and that you asked her to attempt to locate Voldemort."

"Do you believe her?" Dumbledore asked, a small spark in his eyes.

"That she is a hedgewitch, yes," Snape answered. "She gave a very convincing demonstration last night. As to your commission, I do now believe it."

"You are a wise man, Severus," Dumbledore told him, "to accept something which has always been said to be false when it can be demonstrated to be true. It cannot be denied," he continued, turning to Eiluneth, "that Rhysiart Pierce is a remarkably intelligent wizard, but even he is unable to recognize the value of what he has been given. And he has never allowed Eiluneth to realize it. A very stubborn man.

"Well!" His mood changed as he straightened and turned. "I trust you will take good care of her, Severus?"

"I beg your pardon, sir?" he said, drawing himself up to his full height.

"Miss Pierce is undeniably unable to care for herself," Dumbledore pointed out. "She will require aid. I certainly cannot remain and Poppy is needed in the infirmary. If Eiluneth were to recuperate there, questions would undoubtedly arise. As you are already aware of the situation and have no classes today, I believe you are the obvious choice. Let me know if anything changes." With a cheery smile, Dumbledore vanished from the room.

Severus sighed with annoyance. In a half-hearted tone, he said, "_Accio_ chair," and prepared for a long, tiresome day.

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It was full dark before Eiluneth awoke once more, still tired and somewhat disoriented. Most of the room was pitch black, but a soft glow seemed to be coming from the far side of the room. "Mama?" she questioned softly.

"Hardly," replied a wry voice, accompanied by the sound of a closing book and a rustle of cloth. "I shall record this as a first, Miss Pierce. I have been called many things, but 'mama' has not been one of them."

"Professor Snape," Eiluneth identified the voice. "Have you been here all this time? How long have I been asleep?"

He was suddenly at her bedside, checking her temperature, as Silca popped her head out to say hello. Eiluneth gave her a small smile. "You must be feeling better," Severus commented. "You are much more loquacious than you were earlier. To answer your questions: yes, I have been here all day at the request of the Headmaster and you have been sleeping since this morning. Now I would appreciate it if you would answer some of _my_ questions."

"I--" Eiluneth began, then caught herself. "Of course. You deserve an explanation. And Professor?" She slowly reached out a hand to grasp his. "Thank you."

"Hmph." He pulled away. "I did what was expected of me. No more, no less."

Eiluneth looked at him with disturbingly clear eyes. "You have no idea how rare that is, do you?" she asked.

Severus didn't answer. "What happened this morning?" he asked instead.

"I was just--overtired," Eiluneth told him. "I rather overdid things last night."

"And I should say you have a remarkable gift for understatement," Snape snorted. "Elucidate, if you please."

"Beg pardon?" she asked, looking puzzled.

He sighed. "Explain," he said shortly.

"'Tis simple, really," Eiluneth said. "I Listened before you arrived last night, to the edges of my range. I Listened with you, something I should do when I'm fully rested. It's very. . . draining. I went haring off to the Forbidden Forest. I spoke with you when I returned. All take a toll, emotionally, physically, mentally. I knew that I would be exhausted after Listening with you. Everything else just made it worse." Her voice grew fainter as she continued, tiring with the effort of talking.

"I must say, I find you incomprehensible, Miss Pierce," he informed her. "Now, go back to sleep. There will be food the next time you awake."

She smiled as she shifted slightly to make herself a little more comfortable. "You're. . . a good man. . . Professor," she whispered as she drifted into sleep.

Severus stared at her. "Hardly," he drawled, before leaving the room and extinguishing the light.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You look much improved," Snape commented as Eiluneth entered her sitting room. Silca poked her head from underneath his hair and hissed a welcome. Eiluneth smiled slightly in reply, though she moved to sit before she fell over.

"I feel much better," she said. "It wasn't as--severe-- as I expected it to be."

""Wasn't as severe?'" he repeated incredulously. "What were you expecting, a near-death experience?" He motioned with his hand, sending a platter of food and a table to sit in front of the girl. In spite of his words, she still looked pale and seemed as though the slightest touch would break her.

Eiluneth gave him a shy smile and shook her head. "I wasn't quite sure what to expect," she told him. "I felt this way the last time I Listened with someone. She was a friend of mine that I've known for years. And I that was all I did. With everything this time. . . You are surprisingly easy to work with, Professor."

Snape digested the information. "'The last time?'" he queried. "How many times have you practiced that particular technique? And how could I be any easier to work with than someone you know well?" He sounded somewhat sceptical.

To his surprise, the girl blushed and avoided his eyes. "I--I've only done this once before. It's a very difficult thing to do and not often needed or used. I am the first hedgewitch in a century with the strength and talent."

"And what other hidden talents do you possess?" he asked drily.

"I can Listen," she began to recite slowly. "I am versed in all levels of potions. I know everything there is to know of plants. I can speak to all animals. I have an empathic gift."

"Empathy?" Snape raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. How does that talent operate?"

"I try never to use it," she replied. "It is very--distressing. But if I will, I can focus on something and will experience the most powerful moment related to it. Like--" she looked around, "Like this table. If I were to use my empathy, I would probably feel as the tree did when it was chopped down. I do not deal. . .well. . . with the emotion." Eiluneth shuddered, remembering the times she had been forced to exercise her skill.

"If that is so, then I will not ask you to demonstrate," Snape continued smoothly. "However, you did not answer my earlier question. How is it possible that I could be easier to work with than someone you know and feel comfortable with and, I imagine, is familiar with your methods?"

"I--I don't know. . ." she answered slowly, then lifted her eyes to his. Snape found himself staring into eyes that were uncomfortably clear, their Mediterranean blue causing him to fear not that he would drown, but that they would transform him into something as transparent as they, leaving him open for the rest of the world to see. And yet he could not look away.

"You have the gift," Eiluneth said, surprised, finally blinking away the connection. Severus began once more to breathe. "It's something I would never have expected."

"Because I am a wizard," Severus stated, shocked himself.

"Because you are a man," Eiluneth countered. "The-- fledgling ability to Listen can be found in anyone, Wizard, Hedgewitch, or Muggle. But it is very rare that it is found in a man. I believe it is because women, on the whole, tend to be more--connected--with the world around them. Men tend not to be so--"

"Sensitive?" Severus suggested mockingly.

"Insightful," she shot back. "Well, it doesn't matter, anyway," she continued dismissively. "Unless you want to be trained."

"What if I said I did?" he asked in an idle tone.

"Then I would remind you that it is a difficult task you choose. I would ask you why. I would tell you that once you start, I will not let you quit. You train until you reach the limit of your understanding. That's what I'd tell you."

"Very well, Miss Pierce," he told her. "I accept. If there is any weapon I can use that would help us, I will learn how to use it."

"Hmm. . ." Eiluneth stared at him hard as he looked steadily back at her. "Well. Just remember, Professor, there's no turning back."


	6. A Winter Thaw

Gomen ne! I hadn't meant to take so long with this part. I can only say that it was spring break and I had no access to my computer. But, as _Martin Blank_ put it, "It's not an excuse; it's a reason." So, I humbly present the sixth part of "Listen:" A Winter Thaw. I hope you enjoy.

Ladymage Samiko ;)

  
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Listen for My Heart

Part 6 ~ A Winter Thaw

If there was one place Eiluneth Pierce was as steadfast as steel, it was in the classroom, Severus Snape reflected, rubbing his ear, which was still ringing. He had been deep in trance, but not deep enough, and her whisper in his ear had had all the impact of a megaphone.

It was certainly odd. While she remained quiet and deferential outside of their lessons, she would not allow him to cross her on any aspect of when and how and where she taught him. She was still quiet--and very polite--but her word was law. And nothing was stranger than hearing her little voice saying, "Excuse me, Professor, but you must try again now," with a distinct emphasis on the 'must.'

But it worked. He learned. Very slowly, very painfully, but he learned.

Speaking of painfully. . .

"Miss Pierce," he shouted over the gael wind, "I believe it would be more prudent to retire indoors." _He_ would certainly appreciate it; his nose felt frozen and Silca seemed to be trying to burrow a hole in his neck. Being out in the open on a stormy December day was _not_ his idea of fun.

There was no response from the tiny hedgewitch, who stood at the very edge of the Astronomy Tower, arms outstretched, her dress and hair flying out like a flag behind her. Of a sudden, her voice rose in a bian sidhe cry that took flight with the wind. Startled, Severus was immediately at her side, gripping her shoulders as though afraid she would attempt to jump off.

Eiluneth returned to herself with a start. Turning quickly, she nearly fell over the edge, and was able to regain her footing only because of the hands at her shoulders. She stared wildly at her companion for a moment before breaking free and fleeing down the stairs.

Snape blinked a couple of times, then took off after her. As her pupil, he had become especially sensitive to her 'signature' and was able to follow her trail with ease.

He found her easily enough; she had tracked straight back to her rooms. "Miss Pierce?" he said sternly, opening the door. "What in the hell was that?"

"It was nothing," she answered quickly, avoiding his eyes.

His eyebrow lifted. "Nothing? You scream bloody murder and nearly fall from the tower and you tell me it's nothing?"

"I said, it's nothing!" she shouted at him, than ran to her bedroom door. "Now let me alone!" It shut with a solid finality.

"Well, well, well," Severus mused as he made his way back to the dungeons. It was the first time he had ever heard her yell. "I wonder what that was about. . ."

It was an hour later when a knock on his office door caused him to look up at a very penitential girl standing just outside. "I just wanted to apologize for my reaction earlier," she said softly, avoiding his eyes. "I know you were only trying to help. . ."

"Me? Trying to help?" Snape's face twisted wryly. "I am rarely known to 'help' anyone. I merely request that if you wish to kill yourself, you postpone the action until end of term? But I accept your apology. Now if I may return to my work?"

"I--" she began, then stopped. "Well, then, good afternoon, Professor." She bobbed an odd curtsey and disappeared.

"I wonder. . ." Snape looked after her thoughtfully for a moment before turning his attention back to the papers he had been grading.

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Much to Snape's eternal dismay, certain things began to appear not many days after this last conversation. Ribbons wrapped the banisters. Holly liberally decorated the candles and doorways. Evergreen branches littered the floors. It all meant one thing:

Christmas had come again.

Snape despised Christmas. It forced him to do things he ordinarily never did. Or rather, Christmas made Professor Dumbledore force him to do things he ordinarily never did. Personally, he had never figured out the reason for celebrating. Besides, sitting around watching everyone "making merry" more or less just made him nauseous.

But there was nothing for it. He would simply have to endure it just as he did every other year.

First on the list: Christmas shopping. Snape was obligated to buy at least one thing for every teacher just to avoid all of those nasty recriminations or accusations of favoritism. He shuddered as he remembered the time he had accidentally bought Sprout something (he couldn't recall what) that was _slightly_ nicer than the gifts to the others. Rumors about his being "sweet" on her had lead to numerous insinuations and teasing on a scale never before seen in the staff room. Gods, that had been a pain in the arse.

So, here he was in Diagon Alley on his day off to find something he could buy enough of to satisfy everyone's greed. He quickly settled on inkwells that, once you filled them, never dried up or ran out. He bought one for himself, too, reasoning that he needed an ocean of red ink to cope with the garbage he received on a daily basis that was dignified with the name "homework."

There were two people left on his list after that. Dumbledore, of course, required special consideration, even if Snape did loathe him at this time of year. And though he had assumed Eiluneth Pierce merited an inkwell (hers was a purple one at the bottom of the bag), upon reflection he decided that he should buy her something else, as well. She had been teaching him for over a month now, without pay and without complaint, generous with her time and merciless in her requirements. At the very least, she deserved something for being able to put up with him at four o'clock on a Sunday morning. 

Dumbledore was simple. Snape simply stopped in at The Old Curiousity Shop, a place chock-full of Muggle items. He spotted something called a "Home Ice-Cream Maker" and knowing the Headmaster's love of sweets, purchased it immediately. He also thanked the gods that he would not be around to see the results of Dumbledore's attempts.

Miss Pierce proved more difficult. The curiousity shop provided nothing he thought she would want, though, he admitted, he knew next to nothing about the girl, anyway. Most things in Diagon Alley she wouldn't be able to use. Books she couldn't read, wands that wouldn't even twitch, brooms she could only sweep the floor with. Wasn't there _anything_ that girl could use?

As if in answer, he found himself before a shop window. After staring at the display for several moments, he opened the door and went in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What child is this who laid to rest on Mary's lap is sleeping?" The clear soprano drifted through the castle when Snape returned. He looked around for the source of the music.

"Oh, you won't find her here," Dumbledore told him, smiling, as he emerged from a nearby corridor. "She's been singing like an angel since she rose this morning." He winked. "Don't tell her, but I cast an Crescere charm on her. Her voice truly embodies the spirit of the holidays. Candy cane?" He offered Snape a stick. "A voice like that should bring happiness to many. A joy to hear, an absolute joy. Well, I shall see you at dinner, Severus. Enjoy wrapping my present!" With a cheery smile, he disappeared. Snape looked blankly at the red and white candy in his hand, shrugged, and made his way down to the dungeons.

"Peace on Earth. . . Can it be? Years from now, perhaps, we'll see. See the day of glory, see the day when men of good will leave in peace, live in peace again. Peace on Earth. . . Can it be?"

Severus had spent the remainder of the afternoon in his chambers, savoring a glass of cognac and listening to Eiluneth sing. It was absolutely beautiful. Her voice in itself, he admitted, was nothing out of the ordinary: she had a clear soprano voice, strong, if untrained. He had heard others with voices as good or better. What lent her voice its power was her sincerity, her passion. As he made his way to her rooms, it was almost enough to make him believe. Peace on Earth. . . perhaps. . .

He found her in her sitting room, balancing on a ladder and trying to secure a berry chain to the wall. ". . . Can it be?" she finished softly.

"A question we all ask ourselves, Miss Pierce," Severus remarked. Startled--she had not heard his entrance--Eiluneth turned, losing her balance. With an instinct he hadn't known he possessed, Severus leapt forward, catching the girl before she hit the floor. Surprised blue eyes stared into his own startled black ones and it struck him once again how very tiny she was. As he lifted her and set her on her feet, she seemed to weigh almost nothing at all.

"That's twice," he commented.

"What?" Eiluneth snapped back to herself, blushing furiously.

"That's twice I have saved you from the unpleasant consequences of falling from a height," he replied with a wry quirk of his lips. "I hope you are not intending on making this a habit."

"I--uh--I--" Eiluneth closed her eyes, pulling herself together with visible effort. "Thank you," she said finally.

"You're welcome," Snape returned, amused. "Now, if I may ask you why you were on one of those archaic contraptions to begin with?"

"As you see," Eiluneth answered, gesturing around the room. "I was decorating for Christmas." He looked around with approval; the decorations she had put up were simple, much more restrained (and in much better taste, he thought) than the effusions disfiguring the rest of the castle. The berry chain hung in single-strand festoons around the walls. A few sprigs of holly were pressed into the wax at the base of each candle. A small pine arrangement was centered on the mantel and an advent wreath stood on the table near the door. "I could have asked for help, I know," the girl continued before he could comment, "but there's something so much more satisfying and meaningful about doing it youself. The old-fashioned way," she added with a small smile.

"I wouldn't know," Snape said in an off-hand manner.

"No," she agreed. "Perhaps you would like to try? I still need to finish this wall."

"I beg your pardon?" He wasn't sure if he was supposed to be amused or insulted.

"I thought not," smiled Eiluneth. "Well, then, please, Professor, have a seat. It won't be but five minutes."

He watched as she easily scaled the ladder and secured the last few feet of the chain. "There!" she said happily. "Now we're ready."

"What are 'we' ready for?" Snape inquired, eyebrow raised.

She looked at him in surprise. "Why, the creche, of course. I realize the school doesn't have one, to avoid any religious conflicts, but don't you know the tradition, Professor?" The question of "Doesn't your family do this?" was implicit.

"I am not inclined to celebrate the Christmas holiday, Miss Pierce," he informed her, "and my family was no more inclined than I."

"Oh." The answer seemed to disconcert her. "Hm. Why don't you come see mine, then? It's a lovely one; my brother carved it for me last year."

"Carved?"

"Yes." Her eyes twinkled. "Mother made sure Tom was exposed to "Muggle" practices just as much as wizarding ones. She used to lock up his wand and his broom for a week at a time," she remembered. "Father wasn't happy about it, but he conceded that it was best to know a little of both worlds. So, one summer, Tom picked up stone carving. He's adored it ever since."

"Interesting," was all Snape would say in reply.

Eiluneth retrieved a small wooden box from underneath her bed and brought it back to the front room, laying by the center table. Opening it, she began to pull objects out.

First was a round wooden structure: the stable, represented by a roof supported by thin wooden posts. "My friend, Sioned, made this, actually," she remarked. "She said Tom's sculpture should always be seen in the round." She set it on the table, then pulled some of the packing straw out of the box, layering it within the stable. Snape watched with interest as a carved donkey and two cows also emerged from the box. He had to admit that the boy had talent; they were excellently done, down to the hairs of the tails. Finally, Eiluneth lovingly lifted the central scene from the crate.

It was a single piece of stone, a base with three figures upon it. There was the manger, with the baby sleeping peacefully in it, the child's face round and happy. At his head, Mary hovered protectively; Joseph stood nearby. The expressions on their faces were extraordinary; Tom had made them more detailed than he could have imagined possible on such a small scale. Mary's was a mixture of love, protectiveness, and hope. Joseph, for all the defensiveness in his stance, stood awestruck, the overwhelming wonder clear on his face.

Snape knelt to study them as Eiluneth placed the figures in the center of the scene. "I have never seen faces this expressive," he remarked. "Not even in life."

"I think Tom was rummaging in my memories," Eiluneth said softly. "When he was born, my mother gazed at him just that way. My father looked dazed, as though he couldn't believe he had any part in producing this miracle, nor that Mother did, either. I've seen shadows of those expressions since, but never as pure as at that moment."

"I see," was all Snape would say.

Eiluneth said nothing in reply. Just as Professor Snape had become sensitive to her presence because of his lessons, so had she to his moods. She knew that if he learned she could read him like a book, he would not be able to cope and would retreat further into his shell. So it was best to pretend not to notice the wistfulness and envy she saw in his face as she looked out of the corner of her eye.

"It is a very beautiful piece," said Silca in her whispery voice as she poked her head out from Snape's veil of hair.

"Yes," Snape drawled, standing suddenly. "A very beautiful piece. It might even be worth something someday."

"It is worth quite a lot to me already," Eiluneth told him, looking up at him from where she knelt.

"Then I wish you joy of it," he said shortly. "Good evening, Miss Pierce." He strode out of the room, with Silca turning to gaze behind at the girl on the floor.


	7. In Vino Veritas

Saa naa. . . It's been a while, for which I apologize. And there is a goose outside our windows. Strange. . . At least this is a nice-sized section for you to enjoy. BTB, I forgot disclaimers on the last part for Eiluneth's songs. The first is one of my fav. Christmas carols, What Child is This? The second is a duet by Bing Crosby and David Bowie (the concept boggles the mind. . .) called Little Drummer Boy/Peace On Earth. Very nice to listen to, and fun if you get the intro. dialogue. Anywho, for those who don't know, the title for today translates to "In Wine, There is Truth." Make of it what you will. Oh, and I apologize if the final scene isn't quite up to par. The one in my head was a lot nicer, but it faded a bit and I wanted to keep the section a reasonable length. Well, that's enough out of me. Enjoy!

Ladymage ; )

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Listen for My Heart

Part 7 ~ In Vino Veritas

The school's population experienced a sudden drop as the Christmas holidays began. Eiluneth glanced around the table. Harry and Ron remained of the Gryffindors, a seventh-year Ravenclaw named Brigid sat reading a few chairs away, and a pair of Hufflepuff twins grinned at her. Most of the professors had let their hair down, so to speak, and were enjoying the food and party crackers, though Snape continued to glower at everyone from his seat at her right. Eiluneth gave a small mental sigh; she didn't care much for this kind of celebration, either. As soon as she finished her meal, she made her excuses and left the table.

She made her way absently through the corridors, her mind miles away while her feet followed the route she had learned after these few months. She thought of home, of her mother, father, and brother. Right now, her father and Tom would be off to chapel with the other men, while she and her mother stayed home to bake all the of the Christmas goodies. The reward was, of course, getting to _taste_ all of the goodies and know which ones were the best before Tom came home and demanded his share. And, as always, they would make taffy, loads and loads of the caramelly stuff, with a big portion set aside just for her and her mother. Giggling, they would hide it in a cupboard in the kitchen, knowing that the men would never bother to search a room they avoided as much as possible anyway. Later, the two of them would take some out and eat it like popcorn as they put their feet up and watched movies on the telly.

And then Father and Tom would come home. . . Eiluneth shook herself out of her reverie to find herself back in her rooms, contemplating a wooden cabinet. Her fingers stroked the wood softly. _Well, why not?_ she thought recklessly and opened the door. After all, it is neither fun nor wise to drink alone.

Snape himself left shortly after Eiluneth, feeling more than slightly nauseated at all of the sweetness and light that was being thrown at him. It was all nonsense, anyway. Everybody celebrated this holiday to get as much junk as they possibly could. _Honoring the birthday of the long-dead, supposed savior of the world? Don't make me laugh, _he thought sourly as he opened the heavy door of his rooms. Entering, he slammed it behind him with a satisfyingly solid thump. Now, this was an example of his ideal evening, he told himself. A large, plush armchair in front of a warm fire with a table laid out with a bottle of Napoleon brandy and a snifter. Perfect.

It was quite some time later when he heard a hesitant knock on his door. _Can't the bastards let me alone _one_ night of the year?_ he thought muzzily as he moved to open it. To his surprise, he found Eiluneth Pierce on his doorstep, clutching a bundle and staring at him with wide eyes.

"I am not," he said, in a dignified manner, "going up to the Astronomy Tower in a bloody storm (It _was_ storming.) on the one holiday that irritates me the most. Thank you very much."

Eiluneth blinked a few times. "You're foxed," she informed him, surprise clear in her voice.

"I am _not_ 'foxed,' as you so quaintly put it," Snape replied. "However, I imagine that I may be later on this evening and I would like to remind you that, despite popular opinion, I am allowed to celebrate my days off in whatever manner I so choose. So, good night, Miss Pierce." He thought for a few moments. "Why _are_ you here, anyway?"

"Well, I-- I thought. . ." her voice trailed off.

"Yes? You thought--?" he prompted nastily.

"Well, I thought that nobody should be alone on Christmas," she finally blurted out.

Snape's face froze immediately. "I don't need your pity, Miss Pierce," he hissed and began to slam the door.

Just as quickly, Eiluneth stuck her foot in the doorway. "I meant me," she said, so quietly he almost didn't hear her. 

"What?" He blinked owlishly at her.

"_I_ don't want to be alone on Christmas," she said miserably. "I want to be at home, with my friends and my family. . ."

"So why not rejoin the merriment upstairs?" he sneered, leaning against the door-frame.

"That's not what I meant," she answered. "Christmas should be spent quietly, with people you know and l-- feel comfortable with. With good, close friends. They are having fun upstairs, but--she wrapped her arms around herself--that isn't something that includes me."

"Does that mean," he said slowly, "that you consider _me_ a 'good, close friend?'"

"Aren't you?" Eiluneth queried. "You know things about me that few others know. I am your teacher and your colleague; you have shown me respect as both. I have come to--to respect you--your mind, your judgment. I trust you." She reached out with her free hand and took one of his. "And I thank you." 

Severus watched her wordlessly for many moments, then silently let the door swing open. "Welcome to my humble abode," he replied, with not nearly as much sarcasm as he meant to imply.

"I probably shouldn't have, but I brought a--a contribution for our evening." Eiluneth held out the bottle she had carried from her rooms.

"Laphraoig. . . You show good taste, Miss Pierce," Severus said as he studied the bottle. One of the most distinctive--and most expensive--malts in the world.

She smiled, amused. "That's what comes from spending your evenings working at the village pub. There are always a few discerning customers."

Severus set the bottle down carefully next his own brandy and moved to get another glass. "You, a bar maid?" he questioned, amused in his own right. "The concept boggles the mind." He motioned Eiluneth to a chair, bringing her a brandy.

She thanked him with a smile. "Mmm, well, Mother owns the pub and it's the only one for quite a ways. So, on busy nights, I was always drafted into service. I can fetch and carry and drink and flirt with the best of them, _Professor_ Snape."

The man took another long, studying look at his companion, who sat demurely sipping her brandy and still, apparently unconsciously, trying to blend into the shadows. He shook his head. It was impossible to try to picture her even conversing with a stranger, let alone flirting with one. And just as impossible to see her draining a pint of bitter with the enthusiasm of a working man."I'll believe that when I see it, _Miss _Pierce."

"Really. . ." Before he could see her move, she was draped along the arm of his chair, her dress somehow moved lower to bare her shoulders and give him the merest glimpse of cleavage. "Now y'can't mean that, Professor," she purred near his ear. "And here I thought. . ."

His eyes widened and his pulse began to race as he observed this sudden and most unexpected change in her manner. "What did you think?" he asked her, his voice barely steady. . . 

. . . and then she was back in her own proper chair, her neckline back where it was supposed to be and the retiring teacher he knew back in place. Except for the twinkle in her eye. "Now do y'believe me?" she asked.

"You're laughing at me," he accused, absently petting Silca, who came out of hiding to gently bite his chin. He looked down at the ferenicca. "And so are you." She nipped him again, with a slight hiss of laughter, then disappeared into the hole in the wall that marked her home.

"I'm laughing at the pair of us, Professor," Eiluneth replied. "A pair of fools, both of us. Neither what we seem, neither what we are." She stared moodily into the fire.

"Are you sure _I'm_ the one who's drunk?" Snape questioned mildly.

"After one brandy? I doubt it," she answered with a half-smile.

"Then I suggest you have another," he said smoothly.

The moon was low on the horizon and the pair had switched from brandy to whiskey when Eiluneth, who had previously been sharing the silence with Severus, suddenly spoke. She was so quiet, it was almost as if she were a part of the silence itself. "Professor?"

"Mmm?" He pulled his attention from the low flames to her pale face.

"May I ask you a question?"

"If you like," he answered.

"Why do you treat--"

He cut her off roughly. "You want to know why I treat Potter the way I do. The question everybody thinks they know the answer to." He sneered.

"No." His eyebrow went up in disbelief. "I wanted to ask you, Professor, why you treat all the students the way you do."

He stared at her for several moments. "Well, then," he answered finally. "As I am feeling so very magnanimous this evening, I will give you the answer to both questions, especially since the first is implicit in the second. By all means, go to the desk drawer of the greasy-haired git and pull out the two photographs that lie within. Then bring them here and I shall explain the enigma that is Severus Snape."

She looked at him for several moments, her face unreadable, before rising and moving to the large ebony desk that sat next to the door. She found the two pictures quickly and gave them to the silent man, taking her place on the arm of his chair so she could watch as he turned the larger of them over.

It was a class picture from over fifteen years ago; Severus' thumb was covering the last number. A number of graduating Hogwarts students grouped together in their bright robes, some smiling, some scowling. The Slytherins, Eiluneth noticed, kept shooting dark looks at the Gryffindors. One in particular, one she recognized, ignored them completely in favor of glaring arrogantly at the viewer.

"This was my class, Miss Pierce," he said loudly, making the girl start at the harsh sound of his voice. "Let me first make one thing quite clear." He began to point at each student in turn. And with each jab of his finger. . . "Dead. Dead. Dead. Permanently crippled. Dead. Dead. Mentally destroyed. Dead. Alive, God knows how. Dead. . ." The litany continued on. Nearly all of the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs dead. A majority of the Gryffindors and a good half of the Ravenclaws. His entire class decimated by the wars that had followed so quickly upon their graduation. Eiluneth saw the smiling, happy, hopeful faces looking back at her and it was like a knife in her heart. All the happiness, all the hope, had been crushed out of those eyes. Even in the boy-Snape's eyes had been a light, an expectation, that she knew for a certainty had fled long ago.

"And _that_ is the reason, Miss Pierce," Snape managed to startle her again and she turned tear-filled eyes to him before quickly returning them to the knot of Gryffindors on which his finger rested. "I'm sure school gossip has filled you in on my history with Harry's father and any other--little incidents." Sarcasm positively dripped from his words. "The Gryffindors were the darlings of the school. According to the professors and just about anyone else you asked, they were perfection itself. They were everything a wizard should be. They were the standard to which all of the other students were held and which none of us could attain.

"And that was a mistake. The Gryffindors felt they could rest lazily on their laurels, except for a few. . ." His fingers caressed the glass over a face Eiluneth couldn't quite make out. "The Hufflepuffs, after a year or so, quit trying. They contented themselves with little things and never believed they could ever attain the level of their adored Gryffindors. The Ravenclaws were the sensible ones, as they always are. They valued learning for its own sake and pushed themselves regardless. The Slytherins--" He clutched the photograph tightly. "The Slytherins sought to gain mastery in ways Gryffindors could not. One of these ways is Dark Magic. You have to understand, Eiluneth, that Slytherins are ambitous creatures. We want power, control, recognition of our talents. We want everything we can get, and when we found that kind of accolade was beyond our grasp, we sought a higher one.

"Contrary to popular belief, I do not now blame the Gryffindors themselves. They are what they are and they will always be so. I blame the teachers, the professors who caused this imbalance and did nothing to rectify it." His voice grew hard. "And I blame them now, Eiluneth, _because it is happening again_." Once again, he began pointing at faces, this time giving them modern names. James Potter. "Harry," Snape called him. Sirius Black. "Weasley." Remus Lupin. "Granger." Peter Pettigrew. "Longbottom." One more face. . . "Lily." He sighed.

"You give her no modern parallel," Eiluneth pointed out softly, carefully treading the fragile ground.

"She has none," he said simply. "You know the story, Miss Pierce. Everyone knows the story. And yet we are setting the stage for its revival. The pedestal has been erected and our fair Gryffindors are ascending its hights, once again leaving the rest to the dry dust at their feet. It is a dangerous thing to do, Eiluneth. A very dangerous thing. One cannot ignore Slytherins for long, deny them the praise they feel they deserve, without bringing highly negative consequences. I am perfectly aware I am being longwinded, Miss Pierce, but the end result is this: I am simply attempting to redress the balance. I cannot do much, but I can hope that my attentions will in some wise compensate for the lack of appreciation elsewhere. And, hopefully, minimize the damage that the Slytherins would otherwise effect on themselves and others. I do not want them repeating my mistakes.

"I do not want," he finished tiredly, avoiding her gaze, "to face all of the death once again."

And Eiluneth could do nothing for him, not even show her sympathy, for she knew it would hurt his pride. And Severus Snape was nothing if not proud in his own curious way.

"There is one in particular, I think," she said softly. "One death you mourn above the others."

"You are very perceptive," said Severus, his voice uncoloured by the expected sarcasm. "Yes, there is one. . ." He turned over the second, smaller photograph.

Within the gold frame sat a red-haired young woman, who beamed at the camera, her eyes full of love and hope, joy and anticipation. In her arms lay a tiny, dark-haired baby, who gazed out at the world with wide, curious eyes and a small smile.

He turned to the woman beside him. "Do you know what I see, Eiluneth, every time I look at Potter? I see his father. I see James Potter in every look, in every action, in every word that comes out of that boy's mouth. They say he has his mother's eyes, but that is the only part of her that I can see. Everything else, everything, from his hair to his the tips of his shoes, declares his paternity.

"'Lady,'" Severus quoted suddenly, "'you are the cruelest she alive if you would take these graces to the grave and leave the world no copy.'"

"Twelfth Night," Eiluneth replied. "Viola to Olivia."

"Correct." He gave a small smile. "Though I do not speak of what Viola was referring to. Lily Evans never was and never could have been considered beautiful." Eiluneth saw the snub nose, the stubborn chin, the large eyes that had been the woman-child's best feature and not only showed the love and happiness, but the will of iron behind it.

"You loved her," Eiluneth stated quietly.

"I wasn't 'in love' with her, if that's what you mean," he answered, staring into the fire, "but yes, I did love her. Not that I would know anything about the subject. At that time, though, she was the most important person in my world. I respected her, trusted her, admired her. She did everything that was asked of her and never complained. Not seriously, at any rate." Eiluneth saw a tiny quirk of his lips as he remembered some long-ago event. "She was muggle-born and flouted wizard convention when she felt it necessary. She never descended to the childishness of her companions, but she could hold her own with any of them. She was one of the few who dared to cross House lines. She was my greatest, my best, my only friend. She became the best woman I have ever known.

"And she left nothing--nothing!--behind to remind the world of her gifts, save a few old, tired memories, many of which have faded, or died with those who carried them. Her child knows nothing of her and has no part of her that would truly honor who she was.

"Do you dare _now_ to question the why of Severus Snape?" he questioned her, suddenly, bitterly.

Eiluneth said nothing.


	8. Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

Long time, no see, ne? Well, one of my projects for this summer is to finish all of my fanfics. Probably won't happen, but it's a goal, anyway. Ah, well. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this little bit of Christmas in May. ^_^ Have fun!

Ladymage ; )

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Listen for My Heart

Part 8 ~ Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

The past could hurt--terribly, Eiluneth knew, though she imagined Professor Snape would deny that fact. Perhaps not now, but then he was drunk, and doors opened when a person was drunk. She would probably never see this side of him again, especially if he remembered all he had said when he woke up in the morning. But for now, as she remained as still and silent as a statue, she was grateful. Grateful he trusted her enough to drink with her, to talk with her. Grateful that she could give him a person to talk to, to let out feelings he had probably locked away and denied for over a decade. Everyone needs someone who will listen to them.

She could tell he had shut himself down again, retreating behind the walls that had been painfully erected to shut out the people of the world and to hold close the sharp-pointed memories of a long-dead life.

It was hours more before she dared move; beyond the dungeon walls was the cold, stony light of pre-dawn. She found that the man had fallen asleep in his chair, still clutching the photograph of Lily and baby Harry. Both figures watched him with ill-concealed concern. Eiluneth removed the class photograph, replacing it in his desk drawer, before trying to gently shake him awake.

"Professor," she whispered. "Professor, it's almost morning. You should be in bed."

"Hmm?" Severus' eyes opened slightly and he stared at her, unseeing. "Sorry, Lily," he mumbled with a tiny half-smile. "Got caught up in my research again."

_So much lost,_ Eiluneth mourned, not only the loss of his friends and contemporaries, but for the man he could have been, the merest glimpse of whom she had seen in the picture of an eighteen-year-old boy. "Come on," she said aloud, "You should be getting along to bed." She helped him out of the chair, bearing his weight with a strength no one would have guessed she had. He stumbled along with her help, falling rather than laying down on the bed when they reached it. With a ease born of long practice, she slipped off his shoes and socks and unbuttoned the top of his robes, loosening the high, close-fitting collar. He would not thank her, she knew, if she readied him fully for bed, dressing him in a nightshirt or pyjamas or whatever else he wore (or didn't) to sleep in. She tucked him in, smiling at the peacefully sleeping face, then ducked out the door to return to her own room. It was late (well, early, actually) and she, too, could use the sleep. But first, a small preparation to make. . .

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Snape awoke in a foul temper, his head aching, his mouth feeling stuffed with cotton. Groaning, he sat up in his bed, desperately trying to remember what he had done to end up like this. A large spot of white on his night table caught his eye; he picked up the piece of paper (yes, paper, not parchment) and read:

'Professor Snape--

If I know one thing, it is that the two of us will awaken tomorrow feeling somewhat under the weather and so I have taken the liberty of preparing my mother's infallible cure for you. Please drink all of it. It will make you feel much better. Just one piece of advice: Drink it as quickly as you can.'

Somewhat to his own surprise, he found himself following her advice, drinking from the cup that also stood on the table. He could taste why she had written to drink it quickly. However, the concoction worked almost immediately, improving his physical condition to its normal state. Unfortunately, he couldn't say the same for his mood once he remembered nearly everything that had happened last night. Then, he noted a postscript added at the bottom of the paper.

'I would very much like to thank you, Professor, for an evening well-spent. Though I know you would not have confided in me under normal circumstances, I am very honored that you trusted me enough to do so. And please know that I will keep all that you told me in strictest confidence and will never speak of it again unless you wish it.

Love,

Eiluneth'

Severus put his head in his hands and groaned. Thrice-damned liquor! He should never have let that girl through his door. He should never have told her anything. And yet. . .

He picked up the photograph of Lily and Harry, which lay next to where the note had been. For the first time in many, many years, a third figure had come out to join the other two. While Lily smiled happily at the man standing beside her, Severus Snape glared at any who would view him and question his right to be there.

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As Snape prepared to face the festive world outside his chambers, he decided to simply let the matter lie. Miss Pierce had promised never to speak of it again unless he brought the subject up and, oddly enough, he had total confidence in her discretion. So, as far as he was concerned, last night (and that morning) had never happened.

He sighed in exasperation as he swept down the castle's hallways. Unlike the students' presents, the teachers' were left under the tree in the staff room, where they all gathered to open them. Snape wondered sourly (and not for the first time) if it was a tradition instituted by Dumbledore simply in order to force him to be sociable. Well, it wasn't as if it was very successful, anyway.

He picked his usual chair in the furthest corner of the room, distancing himself from the activity while still able to observe it. Minerva chattered animatedly with Hagrid while Dumbledore murmured phrases in Fang's ear, scratching his stomach. The other teachers were in a good-natured argument on the nature of the fabled ugallu demon. Even Binns seemed to be enjoying himself. Eiluneth, he noticed suddenly, also sat a little apart from the general group, though her smile told the world she, too, was having a merry Christmas. Snape was tempted to emulate that old Muggle from the story and proclaim "Bah humbug!" to the group before returning to his rooms.

But he had a feeling Albus would never let him get away with it. It was Christmas and Christmas should be celebrated. Whether he liked it or not.

One by one, the gifts were distributed. Albus chortled over the ice cream maker and began plotting flavors with a house elf. The others were used to Snape's unimaginative gifts and received them with polite thanks rather than overwhelming enthusiasm. Eiluneth's gifts were opened with more interest; she seemed to have read every professor aright and had given them very specific presents. Sprout received a very rare Dragon's Blood tree seedling, Hagrid, a monstrously-sized puppy. Each gift was small in itself, but infinitely appropriate. Snape looked forward to his own somewhat nervously. How much had she managed to read of him?

When he opened the box, he blinked, puzzled, at the four candles that nestled within before taking the card that lay atop them. He silently read the small, ornate script:

"May your path shine ever-clear before you

May you be given the knowledge to walk it wisely,

And the strength to walk it well.

May all that is good

Go before you,

Walk beside you,

Follow in your wake,

And reside within you.

Merry Christmas

Eiluneth Pierce"

And then, in even tinier letters:

"I promise to explain later."

"Thank you, Miss Pierce," he said politely, tonelessly.

"You're welcome, Professor," she replied, smiling softly.

"C'mon now, Miss Eiluneth," Hagrid rumbled genially. "'s yer turn teh open yer gifts."

"Of course, Hagrid," she said, her smile growing deeper. With no further delay, she began unwrapping her own presents, exclaiming, apparently genuinely, at each one.

Oddly enough, Severus found himself becoming more tense as she worked her way through the small pile. He was beginning to regret his somewhat extravagant gesture. Standing, he moved next to the fireplace. She would thank him, of course--enthusiastically, since her consideration for others' feeling was so great--but the odds that he had picked something she would appreciate. . . It would have been better to ask her what she would like in remuneration for her efforts. Or maybe just thrust a sack of galleons in her hands. Then she could buy herself whatever the hell she liked.

As the box was large, it had found its way to the very bottom of the pile. As she picked it up, Eiluneth regarded it with some confusion. She knew it had to be from Professor Snape; she had opened gifts from all of the others and her parents' and brother's were waiting in her room. And yet, it was such a large box. Everyone else (except for Headmaster Dumbledore, of course) had received those cute, little inkwells. He wouldn't use such a big box for an inkwell. . . unless he had run out of boxes, but those came with the inkwells. . . and he certainly wouldn't have gotten her anything else. . .

She opened the card that was taped to the box and read the cramped, spiky hand:

"To Miss Eiluneth Pierce--

In spite of what you may think, you have fully earned the right to these.

Severus Snape.'

She looked up at him briefly, eyes puzzled, then turned her attention back to the box when she saw there was nothing to be learned from his expressionless face. Carefully cutting the ribbons, she removed the lid of the box.

Folded neatly inside were professor's robes, full-length, in a gorgeous, rich blue. As she pulled them out, the other women made 'oh's of admiration, though she did not hear them, her senses lost in the overwhelming sea of blue. They were definitely tailored for a woman's figure, taken in at the waist, flaring at the hips, with laces all the way up the front, which could be pulled as tightly or as loosely as she would wish. She had no doubt they would fit perfectly. The robes were also definitely practical; the fabric was a light wool that would be appropriate for all but the hottest days of the school year and the sleeves, though full and bell-shaped, included ties at the cuff and elbow that would wrap the extra fabric around her forearm and keep it out of the way as she worked. Eiluneth rose, holding the robes in front of her. She laid them carefully on the chair she had just left and stepped quickly across the room to where Severus stood.

He watched her, puzzled at her reaction, for two seconds before she threw her arms around him and kissed his cheek, in the same spontaneous manner as a young child. "Thank you, Professor. Thank you," she whispered. He then stood pilloried as she began sobbing into his robefront.

His arms at his sides, not daring to move, his eyes searched the room for something--anything!--that could extract him from this situation. Just what was one supposed to do when a colleague was crying on you? His nearly panicked expression would have been extraordinarily funny if the others hadn't thought the whole scene rather touching. Finally taking pity on the man, McGonagall rose from her chair and crossed over to the two. Tsking in annoyance, she took one of Severus' arms and placed it around the girl's shoulders, then moved the other one just below it. With a raised eyebrow that said, '_Now_ do you know what to do?' she motioned everyone else out of the room, even the headmaster, and closed the door, leaving them alone.

Snape awkwardly patted the girl's shoulder. He ransacked his mind for words, finally saying the only thing he could think of. "Hmm, well. You're welcome, Miss Pierce." It didn't seem to have much of an effect. "Um, Miss Pierce? I appreciate the sentiment, but the moisture is beginning to soak through."

She jerked away from him as though jolted by electricity. "Oh! Professor! I'm so sorry! I din't mean--" She was cut off by Snape's upraised hand.

"Nonsense, girl!" he barked. She stepped back, startled. "And stop apologizing. You have no reason to. Though," he continued in a more ordinary tone of voice, "I confess to being somewhat puzzled. I had no idea my present would elicit such a response."

"You don't know," Eiluneth sniffled, "how much this means to me, sir."

"I think I have some inkling," he replied drily, fingering the darkened patch on his robes.

She laughed damply. "But you see," she continued, returning to her chair for the robes, "this is something I've been wanting all my life. Something I can never reach. The fact that--"

Once again, Severus cut her off. "You should stop _talking_ nonsense, as well, girl," he informed her, without his customary harshness. "I tell you again, you have fully earned the right to wear those robes. Your magic may be different from an ordinary wizard, but believe me when I say this, Eiluneth Pierce, you are fully the equal of any one of us here. Including me."

Eiluneth stared at him for a long moment, her eyes wide, before covering her face with her hands and bursting into tears once more.

"Damnation!" an exasperated Snape exclaimed. "What is one supposed to _do_ with crying females?" he asked the air. "_Why_ can't they just accept the truth? Is it against the law of Nature? Bloody hell," he muttered. "Women should come with instruction manuals."

"I believe," commented a voice, which Snape identified as the Fat Friar, who happened to be passing through, "that one is supposed to embrace them and comfort them by telling them various things such as, "All will be well," though I wouldn't know, of course. I believe that a kiss usually helps as--"

"Damned if I will!" the man shouted, outraged. "If you think I'm going to start spouting absurdities and acting like a love-sick young whelp just because that woman's common-sense has obviously deserted her, you're even more air-headed than that floating fat-head, Peeves!"

"Well, if you're going to be like that about it. . ." replied the friar, slightly miffed as he floated out of the room once more.

He stalked over to Eiluneth, roughly grabbing her by the shoulders. "Listen, woman. You know me well enough by now to know that I never inflate anyone's ego by lying to them. I said what I said and I meant it. And dammit, woman, if you keep crying over it, I--I'll damn well take the bloody things back!"

Her hands landed flat on his chest as her eyes flew up, startled, to meet his. He watched them, puzzled, trying to read the emotions in the jewel-bright depths and, at the same time, trying to figure out how this tiny slip of a girl could bring out such a strong emotional response in _him_.

And then the look in Eiluneth's eyes changed, growing darker and more mysterious. And, as though they possessed the power of an Imperius curse, he felt himself responding. He pulled her close against him and bent his head to hers, caressing her lips gently with his own.

Severus expected her to pull away--in surprise, in disgust, in _something_--but Eiluneth apparently had her own ideas and leaned into the kiss, almost collapsing against him. He deepened the kiss and her hands flowed upwards, her fingers tangling themselves in his hair.

It was this slight stimulus that brought him out of the trance he was in, out of the emotionally charged haze and back into reality. Snape pulled back sharply, breaking away from her hold and practically shoving her in his haste. Dazed, she struggled to keep her feet. He wanted to help her, but didn't dare. Just as he didn't dare look in those eyes--those soft, questioning, ever so innocent eyes.

"Professor. . ." she whispered, her voice thick with wonder and confusion.

"Don't," he said sharply. "We will stop this right now. I refuse to carry on with a casual affair and you don't--can't!--care for me. You have no clue as to who and what I am."

"Professor!" This time her voice was astonished and rich with indignation. "I don't know what you think _I_ am, that I would do this 'casually!' Professor, I c--"

"I said, stop, woman!" he roared. "I say you cannot because I know you cannot! Nor will I allow it!"

"Allow--!" she gasped.

"I made the mistake of telling you something of myself last night," he continued, forcing his words into a cool, calculating tone, "which I regret." Eiluneth flinched as though he had slapped her. "And your conduct today, I imagine is due in a large part to that. Well, as it happens, I have the antidote for my sorry little tale right here." He whirled to face her straight on. "Can you honestly tell me," he asked coldly, "that you could love any man who wears this?" With a vicious yank, he bared his arm to the elbow.

She stared at it, not understanding what it was, for long moments. Finally, she breathed, "The Dark Mark. . ." Snape waited, glaring defiantly at her, watching for her rejection. "The Dark Mark. . ." she repeated, musingly. Suddenly, her eyes opened wide and her mouth made an 'o' of surprise.

"That's it!" Eiluneth exclaimed excitedly. "The Dark Mark! That's it! Professor, I've figured it out! That's what I can do!" She gave a little skip of delight, then folded the man in a lightning-quick bear hug. "Now I _know_ I can do it!" She flew across the room to her chair, snatching up her new robes, then to the door. "I must go find Professor Dumbledore! Professor, stay right there," she commanded. "No, go ahead and do whatever you want; I can find you whenever, anyway. Oh, finally I know what to do!" With that she dashed out of the staff room and down the hallway, her footsteps sounding clearly in the sudden silence.

Severus stared blankly after her. "I will _never_ understand women," he muttered.

"Amen," replied the Fat Friar.


	9. Turn and Turn Again

Er, this was done a while back, just about when ff.net started going wacky again. Ah, well. Here is part 9 of Listen for My Heart. I hope you enjoy. Please R/R.

Ladymage Samiko ; )

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Listen for My Heart

Part 9 ~ Turn and Turn Again

Severus was not about to allow the rest of his day to be wasted in contemplating the incomprehensible actions of a woman, so he returned to his chambers and dug out a couple of old favorites from his bookshelf. With these and a large pot of tea, he spent the remainder of the day. But perhaps Eiluneth and her unfathomable doings came to mind more often than he would admit.

The sun had set and the moon was high in the heavens when he was interrupted by a tiny knock on his door. Snape rolled his eyes and sighed irritably. He had no doubt as to who would be there. Very few people bothered to come knocking on his chamber door and of those, fewer still would sound so timid about it. "Come in, Miss Pierce," he called.

The door opened mere inches. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Professor," said the quiet voice. "If I may, I have a favor to ask."

"Then, unless you wish the entire school to know what that favor is, I suggest you stop hanging about the door and come in, Miss Pierce."

"I--" Eiluneth blushed deeply and edged her way in, just enough to shut the door. "Sorry." Leaning against the wall, she bit her lip and gazed at the floor, her face hidden by thick waves of hair.

"Bloody hell, girl," he swore. "If you have something to say, then say it. I don't have all night."

"Er, yes," she replied, still staring at the flagstones. "I--you-- um, earlier, I had an idea. You know I haven't had any luck finding, er, Voldemort," she whispered the name, "and when I-- You know I have empathy and I thought I could use it to--to get a feel for him. You see, my problem is that I don't know what I'm looking for. And I haven't been able to distinguish, um, him from the general 'noise.' So when I-- I left this morning, I went to see the Headmaster. He let me see some of his things from when he was a student, but none of those has what I need. He's changed too much since then. And, well, since it was that that first inspired me, I. . ." her voice trailed off.

Snape closed his eyes and slowly took a deep breath. "I _assume_ there is a point to all this nonsense?" he asked, his voice heavily laced with sarcasm. "And I would suggest, Miss Pierce, that if you wish to ask me something, you at least look at me while you do so." When she remained silent, with her head turned aside, he sighed irritably and rose from his chair. Stalking across the room, he put his hand under her chin and forced her to look at him.

His eyes widened as he absorbed her exhausted state. Her eyes were sunken and weary, with circles so dark underneath them that one would almost think she had been beaten. Severus realized that she was leaning against the wall not because of her reluctance, but because it was the only thing keeping her upright.

"Hellfire and damnation!" he nearly roared, causing Eiluneth to stare at him in alarm. He jerked the door open, which caused her eyes to open even wider and suddenly fill with tears. "Honestly, girl," Severus growled, as he grabbed her wrist and began to tow her along with him down the hallway. "I would think, that at your age--" He glanced at the woman staggering behind him and, with an irritated huff, went back and gathered her up into his arms. It was obvious she'd never make it back to her quarters under her own power. She continued to stare at him with a stupefied expression on her face. "I would think," he continued, "that a woman of your years would, by now, know her limits and have the common sense to pay attention to them! I had imagined that the last time you exhausted yourself, it was due to the unexpectedness of events." He stalked down the corridors, his scowl prohibiting any comment from her. "However, this state of affairs is entirely unnecessary and extraordinarily asinine. Are you completely daft or do you have a death wish? It really is no concern of mine, of course, but if you, as you claim, want to be useful, you need to keep yourself in good condition. What possible use can you be as a walking--not even walking--corpse? By all of the--" Severus finally glanced down to see that Eiluneth had fallen asleep--or fainted, he didn't know which--and was settled against him, her head on his shoulder, her hands on his chest. Lips folded, he continued on his way.

Reaching her door, he discovered the difficulties in opening it with both hands full. Scowling, he commanded, "Open, idiot!" to which the door readily complied. He edged his way in, careful not to bang either the girl's head or her feet against the door frame. You know, now that he thought about it, he realized he had never seen her feet. She always wore those long, flowy dresses. She had nice ones, though, now that he had a chance to see them.

Severus rolled his eyes at the sheer randomness of his thoughts and made his way to her bedroom. Thankfully, the house elves had turned down the bed, so it was no trouble to tuck her in. He removed the long, robe-like over-dress type thing (whatever it was called) leaving her underrobe, shift, whatever! and anything else she might be wearing on her. He really didn't think she wanted him undressing her any more than was necessary and he had no clue how many layers she had on. No need to take risks. He moved to take off her shoes and stockings, only to realize she wasn't wearing any. How odd. He shrugged and pulled the covers up to her chin. It was all her own business, anyway. He began to leave, blowing out the lamp by her bed, then looked back at the pale face, now even whiter in the moonlight. She reminded him of the antique china dolls his mother used to collect, one with midnight black hair and snow-white face. And extraordinary fragility.

He gathered an extra pillow and a blanket that was folded at the end of the bed. Rolling his eyes at his own actions--_I'm getting soft in my old age,_ he informed himself--he made a bed for himself on the couch and went to sleep.

When he awoke once more, the sun was up and unusually bright. He blinked several times before being able to focus on the girl, whom he found ensconced in the windowseat, gazing at the world outside. She seemed to feel his alertness, for without turning, she spoke softly, "It snowed last night, Professor."

"So I see," he answered tonelessly. "Ah, well, I suppose it was inevitable." He arose and stalked across the room to stand beside her. He winced at the light. "God, I hate mornings," he muttered.

"On days like these," Eiluneth murmured, apparently to herself, "Tom and I would be up at the crack of dawn. We'd stuff ourselves into our clothes as soon as we could and race outside. Wales is mountain country; we had our sleds. We--we'd fly down the hillsides at top speeds, racing each other. I usually won. Tom would get angry after a while, and say it was because Muggles like me, even ones who were hedgewitches, had nothing better to do than _pretend_ we could fly. That hurt, you know, but he didn't really mean it and he'd apologize five seconds after he'd said it.

"Listen to me go on," she came to herself suddenly. "I shouldn't be blabbing on about things that're over and done with. No point in boring your ears off."

Snape, to his surprise, had been listening more intently than he thought. "What do you mean, 'it hurt?'" he asked, puzzled. "Why should a comment like that matter?"

"Oh, it's nothing," Eiluneth said evasively, turning away from the window. "Don't mind me, Professor."

"Answer the question, Miss Pierce," Snape insisted in his most awful voice, which--as all students could attest--was pretty compelling.

"It's just. . ." She paused. "You wouldn't know," she continued, "bein' a wizard, how people dream of flying, long for it with every bit of their soul. Why, it's how planes were made, and gliders, and all sorts of things. Ever since I was a child, I've felt that pull, to fly with the birds and ride the winds. I used to dream of it nights. That's why I stood on the edge of the tower that day. The winds are so strong up there; I guess I was dreaming that they'd be strong enough to carry me off." She leaned against the wall, wrapping her arms around herself. "I feel it so strongly inside me, but I know it will never happen. The only thing I can do with a broom is sweep the floor."

"What about those Muggle inventions?" he inquired.

"Father's never allowed me to try. He says they're too dangerous. And now that I'm older, I can't afford what it would cost me. I used to beg Father to let me ride with him or Tom, but he won't let me even touch their broomsticks. So," she shrugged, "I remain earth-bound."

"I see," Severus said simply.

"Do you," she said, giving the wizard an indecipherable look.

"Hmm, I believe you had a request to make of me, Miss Pierce?" Snape reminded her.

"Oh. Yes." Eiluneth blushed bright red. "I do."

"Well? Out with it."

"Well, you see. . ." Eiluneth's voice trailed off as she seemed to think about the best way to ask. "When you showed me the, um, Dark Mark, yesterday, you gave me an idea. I thought I could use my empathy to, um, get a feel for him, you might say. I talked it over with the Headmaster and we went over several things that belonged to Tom Riddle when he was a student here. None of them have the kind of. . . feeling I need. So, I would like to ask you if I could, um, use the Mark. Use it as a focus for my empathy."

"I see," Snape replied, his voice without inflection. "It is an intriguing idea. What would I be required to do?"  


"Um, nothing, actually," Eiluneth said. "I just need to be able to touch the Mark and focus." Her face flushed even darker. "What I wanted to warn you about is that the Mark will take me back to the most powerful emotional moment associated with it. I'll know exactly what happened, probably what you were thinking and feeling at that point in time. It's a. . . very personal experience, Professor. I'll be reliving that moment. If you don't want me to know, then I'll find another focus."

"When and where, Miss Pierce?" Snape asked.

The girl looked up at him in surprise. "You mean, you will?"

"What must be done, must be done, Miss Pierce. If you can face the ugliness, than it is no less my duty to allow you to do so."

"After breakfast, then," she answered slowly. "Here, in my rooms. The Headmaster will be there as well."

"Very well." Snape nodded and began to leave.

"Professor?" Eiluneth's voice emerged tentatively from the shadows by her windows.

"Yes?" Snape lifted a quizzical eyebrow.

"I--I just want you to know that I don't regret anything that happened yesterday. And that nothing has changed my opinion of you."

He gave her a long, level stare, saying nothing. Then he shrugged and turned. "We shall see, Miss Pierce."

And with that, he was gone.


	10. Real Dreams Are Blood Red

Now for the far-too-long-delayed part 10 of Listen. Many thanks to my reviewers. This scene is difficult to write well, so in addition I will say that what I had in mind is similar to scenes from The Pretender, especially from Island of the Haunted, when Angelo is asked to exercise his own empathy. Just a note, there should be only two or three more parts to this fic, which will be done once I can find time. I know it's hiding around here somewhere. . .

Ladymage Samiko ; )

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Listen for My Heart

Part 10 ~ Real Dreams Are Blood Red

It was a quiet group that gathered in Eiluneth's rooms later that morning. She glanced uneasily at the other two men. Dumbledore was his normal self with a bright twinkle in his eye; however, even his twinkle was dimmed somewhat by a shadow of worry. Snape's expression was even more closed than usual; he watched her movements with eyes that were coldly challenging. They did not leave her face even as he was rolling up his sleeve, exposing the Dark Mark. He thrust his arm out in front of him; his eyebrow raised in sardonic expectation.

With wide but determined eyes, Eiluneth looked up into his face just as steadily, never breaking her gaze from his. Her hands grasped his arm gently, without hesitation and without the disgust he was so certainly expecting. Eiluneth saw something flicker in his eyes at her touch, but couldn't decipher what it was. With a final deep breath, she gathered her strength and lay her hand full against the Mark.

Severus felt the girl's fingers trace the ridges of the Mark lightly, almost like a caress. Startled, he searched her face, but he couldn't read anything there. He watched her steel herself, then felt her palm, cool and dry, against his skin.

Her reaction was almost electrical. She stiffened and her hand pressed heavily against him. Her lips began to move silently for several long moments before words began to spill forth. When they did, Severus went rigid with shock.

"Dark," she murmured. "No one here. Is it a joke? A snake! What--? Ow! Too much light!" It had been years, many long years, but Eiluneth gave voice to the thoughts that had been his on that night, the memories become as clear as if they were just happening. He remembered the pitch black of the building he had been told to enter, the pain as the brightness stabbed at his eyes when witchlights appeared. He remembered throwing up his arm in defense. Eiluneth spoke, but it was his own mental voice he heard.

Her face took on an expression of fear and awe, one he recognized intimately. "Voldemort. . ." she whispered, the voice behind it that of a teenage boy. "It's him. I know it's him! Tall, powerful. So much power. . . Yes! I want it! I want the power! I don't care what it costs! I need the power! I'll do anything you ask, anything! He's coming towards me! I'm chosen; I can feel it! Please, my lord! Please, please, please! Now, my lord! Please!" Eiluneth's body jerked and she gave a terrible cry of pain. Her hands clutched his arm convulsively, her nails digging into the flesh for a brief second before she stumbled against him. Somehow, he was able to break his paralysis and catch her before she slid down to the floor.

Still trying to clear the shock from his mind, Severus let his hands automatically steady her. Silca, on his shoulder as always, flowed down his arm and nuzzled the exhausted girl. Eiluneth gave her a small smile, then turned her head to face Severus. He froze, his eyes captured by the intense blue gaze of her own. She regarded him seriously for several moments before reaching a hand up to him and laying it against his cheek. "I understand, Professor," she whispered hoarsely. "I understand." There was a pause. "Severus. I _know_." He jerked back, startled at her words and the touch of her fingers on his skin. What she was offering him was not sympathy--which Dumbledore and one or two others had offered freely--but something else entirely. He turned away.

Eiluneth shifted again, this time to find the Headmaster. "I'm sorry, sir," she answered his unspoken question. "Nothing. Professor Snape's emotions are too dominant. I-- We must ask Harry."

"Potter?" Snape asked in surprise. "What the devil does Potter have to do with this?"

"He is the only other person in this school with a recent connection to Voldemort," Dumbledore replied gravely. "The nature of Miss Pierce's work must remain confidential. He is our only other option."

Snape stared silently at the older man for several moments before standing and sweeping out of the room. Dumbledore turned once more to the pale hedgewitch.

"It's alright, Headmaster," she told him. "I do understand."

It was several hours later when Dumbledore came to fetch Harry. Severus, who had been lurking in the corridors for some time (though he would probably never admit to it), followed the two back to Eiluneth's rooms. Once there, he stationed himself next to the door, scowling at the collected company.

Dumbledore and Eilnueth quickly explained to Harry everything that was happening. After a few moments of consideration, Harry nodded solemnly, agreeing to the experiment.

If it was possible, Eiluneth slipped into a trance even more quickly than before. Harry stared up at her wide-eyed as words began to spill out of her mouth.

"Bright!" shouted Eiluneth/Baby Harry's voice. "Papa scared. Mama run. Mama scared. Harry scared. Mama scared! Harry scared! Mama scared, Harry scared! Mama scare-- Bright! Bright bright bright! Mama? Mama? Mamaaa! Maamaaaaaa!" With that final cry, Eiluneth sank to the ground in a dead faint. Dumbledore just managed to keep her head from striking the ground, then looked at the other two. Harry stood stock still, face white as he stared at Eiluneth. Snape made no move, either, his own features twisted in tortured pain. Without a word, he turned and fled.

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It was but a few moments when Eiluneth regained consciousness. She noticed Harry still staring at her from a few feet away and Dumbledore seated at the other end of the couch she was lying on. Severus was nowhere to be seen and she was too emotionally exhausted to Listen for him. She turned to the boy and smiled warmly. "Thank you, Harry," she said simply.

"Did it work?" he asked tentatively.

"Yes. It worked." Eiluneth's eyes clouded with the memories. "Harry, I'm sorry."

The boy shrugged uncomfortably. "Can't change the past," he replied. "It's something I've learned here."

"But that doesn't mean we don't have regrets, Harry," she said gently. He shrugged again.

"It is almost time for supper, Harry," Dumbledore interrupted. "You should go join the others."

"Yes, sir," the boy replied gratefully and vanished.

"And you," the headmaster continued, his voice mock-stern, "should get some rest, young lady. I will have a tray sent up later on."

"Thank you, sir," Eiluneth replied softly.

"Not at all, my dear. It is I who should be thanking you."

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The days' events had taken a toll on Eiluneth, who retired to her rooms for the remainder of the holidays. New Year's Day passed, as did Boxing Day, before she emerged from her rooms, looking ghostly-pale and anorexically thin.

Beyond a daily visit from the Headmaster, she had not spoken or seen anyone.

Snape glanced at her, slightly surprised, when she appeared at dinner the day before classes were to resume. She was so tiny and frail in her customary long dress; he wondered that she was able to walk unassisted. An eyebrow lifted as he gave a mental shrug. It was none of his concern, anyway. He wanted nothing more to do with her and, judging by her lack of attempts, she wanted nothing more to do with him, either. It appeared they would both be satisfied.

And so Severus Snape was even more surprised when Eiluneth approached him after dinner.

"Um, excuse me, Professor," she said hesitantly. It appeared her voice and her nerve had dwindled along with the rest of her. "I– I at least wanted to explain my Christmas present to you. I– never had the chance." _No need to say why_, he thought sourly.

"Of course," he replied calmly. "Let me collect it and we will adjourn to the library."

"Yes, Professor."

He had not reopened the box since Christmas, preferring to leave its slightly puzzling contents alone. They obviously had some sort of special meaning, and a hedgewitch's gift may be more than what it seemed. Silently, he removed the candles from the box and set them side by side on the table he had chosen in the restricted section. They would be less likely to be disturbed or overheard here and even Granger would think twice before trying to snatch a book while _he_ was in here. Snape also removed the card with the odd verse on it–it sounded like some sort of prayer–and snapped it down next to the candles. Eiluneth jumped slightly at the noise.

"So," Snape began, "I trust there is some explanation besides the fact that you think my rooms need more light." A small nip from Silca, who was still hiding under his hair, reminded him to be nice.

"Yes," Eiluneth whispered. She took up the card in her hand, studied it, and then let her eyes go distant. "A hedgewitch has a certain. . . bond with the earth, with the power contained within it and the. . . consciousness that controls it. English has no words to really describe it properly. The Asian _ki_, or _chi_, is perhaps better, along with the Japanese _kami_ or Latin _numen_. In any case, though hedgewitches cannot use this power directly, we are attuned to it and can. . . make requests. There is power contained in these candles, Professor; I thought you might find them useful." Her fingers laid the card back down and brushed the length of the first candle, which was an almost translucent white, inscribed with a shining gold character. "The ancient word for 'illumination,' Professor. The next," she gestured to a dark blue, almost black, candle, "is 'wisdom.' The crimson is 'strength,' the gold is, roughly, 'good things.' If you have need of any of these things, light the candle and the request will be answered." Eiluneth stood, her face seemingly paler at the effort, and made her way to the door. For a brief moment, she turned back. "Please remember, Professor Snape, that I am a hedgewitch, not some teenager dabbling in Wicca." Her face expressionless, she turned away again and continued down the hall.

As Snape silently gathered the candles into their box, it occurred to him that the last time he had seen Eiluneth, she had called him 'Severus.'


	11. The Dance of Pluto and Mars

It's late, loves, and I'm tired, so I'll just remind people of disclaimers and answer questions if they come up. Thanks to C.S. Lewis, who inspires me with what centaurs ought to be and to the Greek mythology that inspired him. And apologies for giving Neville a cockney accent. Apparently, his language lessons went out the window when he got upset. Enjoy, everyone.

Ladymage Samiko ; )

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Listen for My Heart

Part 11 ~ The Dance of Pluto and Mars

In the following days, Professor Snape was far too busy to see much of his fellow teacher. Certainly too busy to notice that she had taken to wearing her new robes nearly every day. He continued as he normally did: stalking the cooridors at night, terrorizing his students during the day, and brooding in his chair by the fire at any other time.

Not once did Eiluneth seek him out. Which was probably just as well. Or would have been if Silca would stop nagging him. Ah, well. Life was never perfect.

He never noticed that she continued to be pale and slightly haggard. Nor did he notice the evening when she decided to take a walk to the Forbidden Forest. And, being in his classroom, grading papers, he definitely did not see Draco Malfoy follow her a few minutes later or Neville Longbottom stumble after both.

Eiluneth was but a few steps from the Forest, no more than five minutes from a long talk with Darius, when she was stopped by a voice hailing her. She turned to see Draco taking a few hurried steps to catch up with her. What she did not see was the hooded wizard behind her, leveling his wand and whispering a few quick words. After that, the most she would see for some time was blackness.

Neville wasn't sure why Miss Pierce was leaving the castle, but he thought little of it until he noticed Draco following her. While it wasn't late enough for students to be restricted to their towers, it _was_ late enough that they shouldn't be wandering outside. And the fact that it was Draco, without his usual goons with him, was all the more suspicious. Miss Pierce could take care of herself, but he thought he should follow in case he needed to warn her. There was no telling what Malfoy might try.

He was breathless by the time the two of them stopped to talk. Panting, he latched on to a nearby tree for support. Still, he didn't miss the Death Eater who appeared behind Miss Pierce and caught her as she fell unconscious to the ground. He stared in horror, unable to move as the two figures disappeared into the forest beyond and then the air above.

Neville _was_ able to move by the time Draco chose to turn around, a self-satisfied smirk decorating his pasty face. It didn't change when he saw the other boy; anyone knew Neville couldn't even stand up without directions. And so, he was truly surprised when Neville leapt at him with a snarled, "You ruddy bastard! You damn bloody traitor!" and proceeded to try to whale the tar out of him.

Neville was equally surprised when a heavy hand plucked him off the other boy, who scrambled backwards, staring over Neville's shoulder in fear. Slowly turning his head, he gulped at the stern face presented him and the body the melded into that of a horse below.

"There is no time for this, boy," the deep voice boomed. "He will be dealt with later. Now, we must hurry. Pluto and Mars dance close tonight." Neville felt himself tossed almost negligently backwards, though he landed neatly on the centaur's back. He then held on for dear life as the centaur made for the castle at a full gallop.

A centaur is much faster than any normal sort of horse and it seemed like mere seconds before they reached the heavy doors of Hogwarts castle. With no more than a brief, "Hold on," as a warning, Neville clutched desperately, his legs losing any sort of grip, as the centaur reared, breaking through the doors with little effort. The few students and professors—not to mention the ghosts—still about stared at the sight of a full-grown centaur racing through the halls of Hogwarts with a very small, very scared Neville on his back. Hogwarts was not known for normality, but _this_ was something that had yet to happen in anyone's memory.

It seemed, though, that the centaur knew precisely where he was going, making precise turns in the hallways with not even a second's hesitation. Neville's teeth jarred as they clambered determinedly down stairs. He was so distracted by the ride that he did not notice their destination until they arrived at the door and the centaur broke the wards with no more difficulty than opening any normal door.

Snape looked up when he heard the clamor at the door of his classroom, assuming—since nobody else was inclined to make such a noise in this part of the castle—that Dumbledore was attempting once again to roust him out of his lair. He was therefore dumbfounded when he saw not the headmaster at the back of the room, but a centaur, and Neville Longbottom tumbling off his back. "Darius?" he finally managed to query, his voice slightly sardonic. "What brings you to this God-forsaken corner of the world?"

"The boy has something to say," he rumbled in reply, unperturbed.

"Well?" Snape gave Neville the look that could freeze the sun. Surprisingly, the boy managed to speak.

"They took 'er, Professor," he blurted out. "The Death Eaters, I mean. I saw 'em. They took Miss Pierce. She were goin' to the Forbidden Forest and Draco went after 'er and I followed 'im and 'e stopped 'er and a Death Eater came up be'ind 'er and she fell and 'e carried 'er off on a broom."

"Are you sure?" he demanded, noting somewhere in the back of his mind the ruins panic had made of the boy's diction.

"Yes, Professor." Snape looked to Darius for confirmation. The centaur nodded briefly.

"And you?" Snape questioned, damping down all reaction behind his usual mask. "What brings you here, Darius? Centaurs are notorious for their non-interference."

Darius remained unmoved, his face as expressionless as Snape's own. After a long moment, he answered simply, "Pluto and Mars dance close, tonight."

Apparently, the phrase meant more to Snape than it did to Neville, for the boy saw the professor's face immediately lose all color, turning an even more ghastly grayish shade, though the expression didn't change. "Are you sure?" Snape asked urgently.

"Pluto and Mars dance close tonight," the centaur repeated, before turning calmly and walking out the door.

"Damned cryptic centaurs!" Snape swore under his breath, before he remembered that Neville was still in the room. "Well, what are you waiting for, boy?" he snapped. "Get back to your bedamned common room!"

There was a quiet second as the boy stood still, plainly gathering himself together. "No, sir," he replied quietly.

"What?" Snape stared at the boy incredulously.

Neville paused again. "Professor, Miss Pierce is the first person here who's really helped me. I mean. . . well. . . now I can _do_ things. For the first time, I actually have a chance at passing my NEWTS. And she's the reason. I can't just sit here, sir, when she needs help."

Snape stared at the boy in astonishment. A modicum of respect crept into his opinion of Longbottom. Perhaps the boy would make something of himself after all. . . But still. . . "Very well," he consented. "But you must realize that there are things you cannot do and places you cannot go. You don't have the knowledge or the skill to face Voldemort and his followers directly. It must be done quickly and carefully. I will have no time to nurse you along, as well."

"Just tell me what to do, sir," Neville replied quietly.

"Run and fetch the Headmaster. Tell him what has happened. Then go back to your tower and tell Potter I need to speak with him. And tell him to bring that invisibility cloak I know he has hidden away somewhere. Bring both of them to the base of the astronomy tower. But let no one--and I mean _no one_, boy--come up. I will be working to try and find Miss Pierce and I _must not be interrupted_. I will come down as soon as I've located her. Do you understand, boy?"

"Yessir," Neville said quickly before sprinting through the door. Severus watched him for a split second before he whirled around to enter his workroom. He had supplies to gather and not a moment to lose.

A bare ten minutes found him atop the astronomy tower, hair and robes swirling slightly in the cold breeze that played through the stone spires of the castle. With unsteady hands, Snape opened the box he had brought with him. He pulled out the four candles that lay within and placed them around the edge of the deck. Settling himself in the center, he closed his eyes. "Please," he whispered, "if there is a god or some other higher power--whoever you are--please let this work." He opened his eyes again and stared at the candle in front of him. To be sure, he wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to be doing. He didn't like the feeling. With a final deep breath, he muttered, "Fiat lux." The white candle sparked into flame.

'The ancient word for "illumination," Professor.' Her voice seemed to whisk by him on the wind. 'Now breathe in. Out. In. Out.' The words she had spoken when they first Listened together. . . So what he had to do now was Listen. Snape closed his eyes and followed the now well-worn path in his mind. His senses spiraled outward, searching for any hint of Eiluneth, looking for anything that would signal her presence. He nearly screamed in frustration as he found nothing within his limited range; he could barely go past Hogsmeade.

Another mutter, this one as loud as if he had shouted, lit the second candle: "Strength." Almost immediately, his mind shot outwards, covering unimaginable distances in his search for the lost woman-child. Farther than he could ever have imagined going. Still, there was not the slightest sound that led him to her.

The third candle, "Wisdom." 'You see, my problem is that I don't know what I'm looking for.' And a second later, the fourth candle, "Good Things."

'Listen for the sound of your heart. . . listen for the sound of my heartbeat.'

The whisper barely sounded in his ears. 'Listen for the sound of my heartbeat. . .' The nearly forgotten memory of that night months past caught him up and almost involuntarily pulled his senses once again from Hogwarts out into the night. 


End file.
